


i loved you, but

by frankierose



Category: Real Person Fiction, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood, Depression, Established Relationship, Eventual Romance, Friends to Lovers, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Suicidal Thoughts, Unrequited Love, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27689615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankierose/pseuds/frankierose
Summary: Ethan was sick. It was his fault for falling in love with Mark in the first place.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Amy Nelson, Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 35
Kudos: 181





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi hi hi!! just a warning, there may be vivid descriptions of blood, illness, and more in this fic. please read at your own risk and always make sure to read the tags!
> 
> so ive never written a hanahaki fic before somehow even though its one of my favorite tropes??? wack man. anyways, im absolutely a sucker for angst. may or may not have a happy ending, dont keep your hopes up buddy LOL.

The day Ethan realized he was in love with Mark was the day everything went to shit.

It was while they were recording a video for Unus Annus. They had been at it for almost 2 weeks now, and every now and then he felt his heart pound when he and Mark got a little too close for comfort, or when Mark made a stupid suggestive joke, even when he just talked a certain way. But he brushed it off as just recording anxiety - after all, he and Mark had been friends for years at this point, this stuff wasn't any different from 'Markiplier Makes', or even the silly games they'd play as a group when they were slowly becoming buddies.

But it was different this time. It was just Mark, Amy and-or Evan, and himself. No other friends to get distracted by. And he noticed every touch, every brush of skin against skin, how much warmth was radiating off of Mark's body, the way he loomed over Ethan as he firmly placed a wax strip on his-

"Fuck!" Ethan giggled nervously, curling in on himself and getting an annoyed sigh out of the older man. "Maaark!"

"Don't 'Mark' me, Ethan," Mark said, glaring at him. Ethan knew he wasn't actually angry, of course - there was a faint smile dancing on Mark's lips that Ethan could barely make out, but it was there. "You got to wax my pubes, I get to wax yours. An eye for an eye."

Ethan was barely able to stifle a giggle. "F-Fine, just do it. Fast, please?"

Mark nodded and positioned his hands to pull the wax strip off. There was a pause before he started awkwardly singing 'The Itsy-Bitsy Spider', giggles breaking it up occasionally. Once he got to the word 'spout', he ripped off the strip, making Ethan yelp and instinctively curl up, his hands hovering over the now raw skin. It _really_ hurt, but he thought he was covering the pain up pretty well with more laughter.

"You good man?" Mark asked, looking at Ethan with a concerned look drawn on his face.

Ethan looked back. And that was his mistake. He looked for too long, it was drawn out and kind of awkward and just embarrassing. He shouldn't have looked. He wouldn't have gotten attached.

"Y-Yeah," Ethan managed to choke out after a few seconds of silence, swallowing an absurd amount spit in his mouth. "Yeah, I'm fine, I'll be okay. Fuck, move, I wanna see how mangled it looks."

Mark laughed, scooting over to the side. "I don't think there was anything there to _be_ mangled, man."

Ethan scoffed and rolled his eyes. Internally, he was sighing in relief, thank God he was able to save that. He sat up and walked over to check his pubes out and make sure it wasn't irritated or some shit. While Mark goes on a tangent to the camera, Ethan takes a moment to think. Why was that eye contact so weird? Why did he freeze up like that? Usually he's quick witted and he thinks he's pretty okay at banter, but that wasn't funny. Mark's eyes looked so genuine, and beautiful, and frankly Ethan wanted to kiss him right then and there.

"...Right, Eth?"

Ethan was thankfully snapped out of his thoughts before he could question anything else. He quickly smoothed his shirt out and slowly turned around to face Mark, grinning in embarrassment. "Uh, what were you talking about?"

"Just about the inevitability of death," Mark blinked, "and how this channel, like the vast majority of people on Earth, is going to go away someday."

"Wait, 'the vast majority of people on Earth?'" Ethan giggled, walking back over to sit on the couch next to Mark. "You say that like a minority of people on Earth are immortal."

Mark just shrugged. "You never know."

Ethan gave the camera a confused look, Amy zooming in on his face.

"Anyway!" Mark interrupted, the camera quickly swinging over to him. "Subscribe while you can, cause you only have a limited amount of time to do so!"

"Yeah!" Ethan grinned half-heartedly.

"Perfect," Amy piped up from behind the camera. "What a great end, guys."

"We're ending it at _that_?" Mark asked, looking at Amy incredulously.

"I mean, sure, you've had weirder endings," Amy shrugged, starting to take apart their set up. "What's wrong with this one?"

"I don't know, don't you think it's a little... abrupt?" Mark wondered, standing up to help her with her work.

"Like I said," Amy replied, "not very different from some of your others."

They continued to make small talk which eventually faded from Ethan's mind. He couldn't stop thinking about the moment he had with Mark. How intimate it felt. How warm it made him feel, looking back on it. It wasn't the fact that Mark was a man or anything, he's kissed dudes before, and he definitely had a crush on Ryan Reynolds, no doubt. He thought he just admired him, though. He'd looked up to him for so long, and he thought just appreciated his work ethic.

Most important of all though, Mark was his _friend_. They were friends. Mark had a girlfriend, who he was also friends with, and they were undoubtedly, completely in love. They adored each other. Ethan couldn't ruin that. He felt so embarrassed, so ashamed. Why Mark? Why not someone else?

"Ethan?"

Ethan blinked, looking up at the direction the voice came from. He was met with Amy's worried eyes, brow furrowed.

"You alright? You kinda zoned out there," Amy asked.

"Oh," Ethan mumbled. "Yeah, sorry. Let me help."

He stood up to help them out, but he couldn't help but be weighed down by immense guilt. It had to be Mark. It had to be while they were filming, with his girlfriend standing _right there._ He didn't want to realize, but he did.

He was in love with Mark.

"Alright, man, see you tomorrow!" Mark yelled, waving Ethan off.

Ethan waved out the window of his car, and drove off.

He almost ran two red lights on the drive home, and his house isn't even too far from Mark's. He wanted to pay attention and just stop thinking about everything right now, but he couldn't. His mind was full of what if's and hopes and fears and uncertainty. What if it ruined their friendship? He doesn't _have_ to tell him, necessarily, does he? That feels wrong, though. Keeping something like that from him for who knows how long?

"This is so stupid," he mumbled to himself, trying to keep his eyes focused on the road. His brain felt foggy and his stomach felt nauseous. He just wanted to go home and sleep.

Eventually, he got to his house, pulling into his garage. He could hear Spencer start barking from there. If Ethan was totally honest with himself, he was genuinely excited to see his pup. It had been a long day and he just wanted to curl up with him. Spencer was an amazing dog.

Opening the door, Spencer came tumbling downstairs to greet him, tail wagging intensely. Ethan leaned down to say hello and gave him some scratches and pats, but the pat sesh is quickly cut off, much to Spencer's dismay. Ethan wanders upstairs to his bedroom, Spencer following quickly behind.

Hopping onto his bed, he pats next to him to signal Spencer to jump up.

"Hey, buddy," Ethan sighed, Spencer laid down next to him. "I missed you today. Wish you could've come over to Mark's place. Been a stressful day."

Spencer just huffed in reply.

"You always know just what to say, don't you?" Ethan giggled, laying his head down onto his pillow. "Love you, Spencie."

Ethan gave Spencer a few quick firm pats on the back, and closed his eyes shortly after. He didn't know why he felt so exhausted. He and Mark didn't do that much stuff today, but apparently realizing you were in love with your best friend could take a lot out of you.

Soon, his breathing slowed, and he was asleep.

He didn't know how long he was asleep for, or what time it was, but he was jolted awake by a wave of dry coughs. Damnit, did he really manage to catch a cold? He sat up and shuffled out of bed to get a cup of water.

Slipping silently downstairs and walking into the kitchen, another wave of coughs burst from his throat, wheezy and sore.

"Fuck," he whispered hoarsely, catching his breath. His heart was pounding. This didn't feel like a cold.

Regardless of his paranoia, he shook it off, grabbing a cup from his cupboards and filling it up quickly with water. It was gross and lukewarm, but it did the job and soothed his throat. Sighing, he checked the time on his microwave. It read 2:34 AM. It was around 8 when he went to bed - he supposed 4 hours of sleep wasn't awful. Besides, he's survived off of worse sleep.

He goes off to bed once again, walking up the stairs and to his bedroom. He flopped himself onto his bed - thankfully Spencer wasn't around anymore, he would've hated himself if he managed to hurt him just then.

He was so tired. His core was crazy sore from coughing, and he didn't even cough that much.  
  
Unfortunately, Ethan's throat spasmed once again and he coughed. He coughed, and coughed. It felt like it would never end. It felt like he was going to vomit. It felt like he was caught in a storm and he couldn't get himself out.

He turned on his side and curled in on himself, clutching his stomach. It hurt like hell, his throat hurt so bad, he couldn't breathe. His heart was racing and his brain started panicking, preparing for the worst.

And then it stopped. It was over. He was okay.

Frankly, he was surprised he _didn't_ vomit. However, he noticed a few stray pieces of something next to his face. He couldn't make out what they were in this light, though. Reaching over to his phone, he shakes it twice and the flashlight turns on.

They were... petals? Petals, covered in what looked to be blood, along with blood spattered on the sheets.

Ethan's eyes were wide. Did that come from him? Did he cough up _flower petals?_ How would that even work? And, oh God, they were bloody. There was blood. This was definitely not a cold.

He quickly runs to Google to answer his questions. Shakily typing in the query 'coughing up flower petals', he gets a synonymous result.

"Hanahaki Disease?" he mumbled to himself, clicking a link that lead to a medical website.

' _ **Hanahaki Disease**_

_A disease affecting the lungs of an individual who has, unfortunately, fallen in love with someone who does not feel the same way. If left untreated, flowers and roots fill the individuals' lungs, until they choke on the flowering plant and die from asphyxiation. The only cures are to have your feelings returned, or to have the plant surgically removed._  
  
_**Symptoms include:** _

_Fatigue, brain fog, body aches, uncontrollable shaking, loss of appetite, intense coughing, coughing up blood and individual petals, vomiting flowers._ '

Ethan was frozen in fear. This couldn't be happening to him. He scrolled down more.

' ** _Death occurs around a few months if left untreated, but in certain rare cases individuals have lasted over a year. If you are experiencing any of these symptoms, please call 911 immediately_.**'

No. No no no no no no no. He couldn't die. A few months? He needed more! He had Unus Annus to film, he had friends and family he cared about, and what about Mark? He just couldn't die. He wouldn't

Ethan's phone slipped out of his shaky hands, his breathing becoming unsteady. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he closed his eyes. What was he going to do? How was he supposed to get Mark to fall in love with him? He was in a relationship already and there was little to no chance of them breaking up. Ethan didn't have the money for surgery, either, so that was pretty much out of the question.

How ironic was this? A few weeks after he and Mark start a channel about the inevitability of death, Ethan ends up falling ill. Hell, he may die before the channel dies. He was supposed to understand now, to understand that death comes for all of us, why was he so scared?

Funny, isn't it?

Ethan wasn't laughing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan tries to film more Unus Annus with Mark, but his mental and physical health are both very obviously declining. Amy notices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just saying ethan has some Thoughts in this chapter. theyre very minor and i obv dont elaborate on them bc yk this aint a smut fic its angst. anyways they arent too explicit, just him making stupid remarks in his head in the moment.
> 
> but yall. yall i think this is the most ive ever written in a day FHFFHFHG. it gets very sad. i warned u guys i warned u  
> theres also some soft romance-y moments, but its mostly heart wrenchingly sad okay. im not THAT mean but im pretty mean srry PSHSSHSHHJ

When Ethan woke up the next day, he was filled with a sense of dread. Absolute, overwhelming dread. And of course, he had to get poor sleep, coughing throughout the night. Not exactly the best combination for filming a funny internet series.

He slipped out of his covers, emitting a groan as he did so. His whole body ached. He didn't know what he expected, considering the coughing and the symptom list that he faintly remembered. He hopped out of bed, rubbed his dry, scratchy eyes, and decided he was going to take a shower. He figured it would wake him up a little, at least.

He opened the door to his closet, picking out clothes (boxers, a soft boi sweater, and old skinny jeans) and walking to his bathroom. Every step he took felt heavy and dazed, like he was trying to walk through a pool.

As he closed the bathroom door behind him, he took a quick glance at himself in the mirror and noticed how _awful_ he looked. There were dark circles around his eyes, he looked pale and sickly, like he was going to pass out at any moment. Admittedly, Ethan _did_ feel like he was going to pass out, but more importantly, Mark and Amy were definitely going to be suspicious.

He exhaled shakily, gripping onto the sink in front of him so hard that his knuckles went white.

"You're okay, Ethan," he mumbled to himself, voice hoarse. "You're only dying!"

He laughed abruptly and suddenly, loud and sharp. He felt like he was going to break down crying, why was he laughing? This wasn't funny. But he couldn't stop, even as hot tears overflowed from his dull eyes, he kept laughing. His knees were weak. He felt sick. He was dying.

His laughter quickly dissolved into thick, heart-wrenching, cough-filled sobs as he planted his elbows on the sink and held his head in his hands. Ethan didn't know how else to describe this feeling other than hopelessness, drowning him out. Mark didn't love him and most likely never would. He didn't even know whether Mark swung that way or not.

Regardless, he took a deep breath - in, and out - wiped his face off and straightened himself out. Quick shower. Then Mark's place. Quick shower, then Mark's. Quick shower... with Mark.

Ethan paused, eyes wide, a blush crawling up his neck. Where did that come from? He was just breaking down over the fact that he had an illness that was nearly impossible to cure, and now he was thinking about Mark, holding him close as hot water washed over the both of them.

Oh, this was _bad,_ wasn't it.

"No," Ethan groaned, shaking his head. "Don't fuck with me, brain. Not today. I'm showering and leaving to film Unus Annus. That's all."

Nothing would happen. He'd shower, leave for Mark's, film, and then go home.

He sighed, trying to ground his brain from thinking too much of anything else. He turned on the shower, and took his shirt off, looking at himself in the mirror once again.

He didn't look bad, he supposed. Now that he was hanging out around Mark I'm-So-Buff Fischbach, he was exercising a lot more often. His body was toned, but not exactly _muscular_ , like Mark's. He was hoping to get to how he looked when he was doing gymnastics sooner rather than later, but he understood that this took time. Mark didn't exactly get buff overnight, he knew that. Deciding not to fret too much, he just undresses the rest of the way and gets into the warm embrace of the shower.

It was nice. It would've been a lot better with Mark there - Ethan cursed at himself as he thought that - but nice anyways. He felt refreshed, although he knew it would wear off soon. Drying himself off, he quickly slipped into his clothes, ruffled his wet hair so it looked somewhat presentable, picked up his dirty clothes and ran off to his room.

Throwing his clothes into a corner (he'd take care of them later), he walked to his bedside table and checked his phone.

"11:30, shit!" Ethan swore, throwing his phone onto his bed and digging through a messy bucket in his closet to find a pair of socks. He was supposed to meet with Mark to film 30 minutes ago, he didn't realize he took that long to shower! Or maybe he slept in? It didn't matter - what did matter is that he was late.

Finding a mismatched pair, he slips them on as fast as possible, along with his shoes, and shoves his phone into his back pocket. He doubted Mark would be too mad, he's understanding, but he still felt awful.

Sprinting downstairs, he's met with Spencer laying down at the end of them, apparently waiting. Shit, he had to feed him too.

"I'll feed you in a sec, bud," Ethan said, patting the small dog's head. Spencer immediately perked up and started following Ethan as he walked into the kitchen.

Ethan grabbed his phone from his pocket, unlocking it and getting ready to text Mark to tell him he was going to be late. Thinking for a moment about what to send, he comes up with the perfect explanation.

 **Ethan, 11:34 AM:** _hey man, sorry i'm not there yet! i slept in and lost track of time :( be there in twenty!_

He exhaled, trying to calm his nerves. His heart was racing for no reason at all. Shaking it off, he grabbed a can of dog food, quickly opening it from the tab and messily pouring it into Spencer's bowl.

"See you later, Spence," Ethan mumbled as he gave goodbye pets to the pup. Spencer wagged his tail as thanks, and that was all Ethan needed to recollect himself.

Mark's. Unus Annus. Home. He repeats that list in his head, drilling it into his brain. That was what was going to happen. No what if's on the drive there. No worries. Nothing bad was going to happen.

The drive was quick and easy. No missed lights. He paid full attention to the road, senses sharp and ready. He was ready. He was fine. This was fine.

The issue came up when he pulled into Mark's driveway. His heart pounded in his ears, hands shaking. It's okay. It was just Mark and Amy, they weren't going to be mad at him. They won't notice, it's okay.

He inhales, and exhales. Slowly. He imagined Mark pulling him close, just telling him everything was going to be okay. Telling him he loved him too and he'd get better. Symptoms go away quick once the other person reciprocates. He was fine.

And with that, he opened the car door, stumbling out. His legs still felt weak, like a newborn fawn walking for the first time, knobbly knees and all. He took another deep breath, and walked up to the front door, giving it a firm knock. The door quickly opened and Ethan was met with Mark's welcoming face, smiling warmly.

"Hey, Eth!" Mark grinned, opening the door wider. "Come on in, man, I'll let you know what we're doing today."

"Y-Yeah, okay," Ethan stuttered, stepping into the older man's house. "Sorry again for being late, I don't know where the time went."

"Nah, it's fine, you don't need to worry," Mark reassured him, making Ethan relax a bit. He wasn't mad. "Amy needed a little extra time to set up, anyways."

"Oh? We doing something special today?" Ethan asked.

"Sort of," Mark chuckled and looked at Ethan with his warm brown eyes, making him positively melt.

Mark didn't say another word after that, he just waved Ethan over as if to say 'follow me'. He did so, Mark leading him to a set up with two chairs and a small table with a huge tank on it. Ethan just looked at Mark, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Helium!" Mark said, waving his arms about in excitement. "Amy got a tank and everything, we're gonna do a... therapy session, for lack of a better term, on helium."

Ethan gave Mark a doubtful look, squinting at him.

"I swear, it's going to be funny," Mark insisted, sitting down on one of the chairs. "Now sit, we gotta start filming soon."

Ethan sighed and hopped onto the other chair. "You completely sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure, Ethan. Now shush," Mark said, rolling his eyes.

Amy walked into the room, giving Ethan a weird look before she fiddled with the camera, signaling it was recording with a thumbs up.

"Helium!" Ethan blurted out, half mocking Mark, half just wanting to get this over with. Mark turned his head to look at Ethan with a confused face, and Ethan giggled nervously.  
  
"Helium _therapy,_ specifically," Mark clarified to the camera, taking a balloon from a bag on the table and filling it up with helium. He and Ethan make unbroken eye contact as he does so, and Ethan desperately tries not to laugh.

Once Mark finishes, he puts it up to his mouth and inhales a small bit of it. "Fuck."

Ethan suddenly bursts out in giggles, which causes Mark and his squeaky voice to laugh along with him. Ethan's laughter is quickly cut off by coughing, and lots of it. His eyes widen, covering his mouth and bending over, trying to suppress the urge to hack his lungs up.

"Woah, Ethan, shit," Mark huffed, catching his breath. "Are you- are you doing alright?"

It takes Ethan a few to respond, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. But once he recognized the wave was over, he straightened himself out, cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

"Yeah, I'm..." Ethan paused, taking a moment to think of an excuse. "I'm fine, just- I just swallowed wrong."

"Do you need water or something? That was rough," Amy asked, looking over at Ethan from the camera. She looked worried. They weren't supposed to worry.

"I'm _fine_ ," Ethan snapped, a sharp edge to his words. He didn't mean for it to come off like that, the guilt already seeping through him. "Sorry, I- I'm sorry. I didn't sleep well last night and I've been stressed recently, I didn't mean to snap at you, Amy."

"Hey, it's okay," Amy said, a softness to her voice that wasn't there before. "We've all been there. We don't have to record today if you aren't feeling too great."

"No!" Ethan yelled, wincing right after as he realized he did so. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell, Jesus. I'm- I'll be alright. Let's keep going, you can cut all this out."

Mark and Amy exchange knowing looks, with Mark shrugging and Amy sighing in response. She nods at Ethan, and recording continues.

It goes fairly well. Ethan tried to keep up his silly Youtube persona throughout the video, and considering the state of his body right now, he thought he did alright, albeit more looks from Mark and Amy. They made up some silly stories for the camera, giggling throughout.

"There was this girl in 4th grade," Ethan started, pausing the story to inhale some more helium. "Her name was... Abigail. Now, Abigail broke 10 year old me's little heart. And I'll tell you why."

Ethan puts the balloon up to his mouth, stifling stray giggles. Just as he started to breathe in the gas, a sharp pain jabbed under his rib. He winces, empty hand instinctively going to the area where the pain was.

"Ethan?" Mark asked, looking over at Ethan, concerned as usual. They were definitely babying him, and Ethan didn't know why. He was perfectly fine.

Ethan was going to reply snarkily, but as he took another breath, the pain stabbed at him again.

"Fuck," he hissed, trying to keep a hold on the balloon.

"We should take a break," Mark insisted, looking at Amy behind the camera again.

"Stop worrying about me!" Ethan groaned, tears once again starting to well up in his eyes from both physical pain and emotional pain. "Please, I just- I just want to do this."

"We're definitely taking a break," Amy said, her words stern and clear. Ethan just looked up at her, his face absolutely pitiful.

He couldn't start crying, not now. Not in front of Mark. He didn't want to, but he did. He simply let out a broken sob while his lungs ached, screaming at him to stop.

"Woah, hey, why are you crying?" Mark asked, quickly moving to comfort the younger man. "Is something up?"

Ethan glanced at Mark, which just made him break down even more. He shook his head. "I ca- can't say, Mark."

"What do you mean, you can't say? You know you can tell us anything," Mark said, his voice soft and low, comforting. At least, it would be if Mark wasn't the cause of all his problems right now. Fucking Mark.

"Not _you_ ," Ethan spat, not necessarily with the intent of being rude, but apparently Mark took it that way. Ethan looked at him again, and Mark looked... betrayed, almost. He stood up.

"Fine," Mark stated blankly, starting to walk away. "I get it, whatever. At least talk with Amy."

"Mark!" Ethan cried out, his throat burning all the while. "No, fuck- I didn't mean it like that, I- Mark, please, I can't-"

There was no point. He was gone. Ethan so badly wanted to scream right now, but he physically couldn't. It felt like his voice was trapped in his throat.

Amy stood there for a second, presumably from shock. But she also moved to Ethan's side, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Ethan, he didn't mean that..."

"No," Ethan whispered, hiccups breaking through his speech, "he did. I'd b-be hurt too if he said what I ju-just said."

"You know he acts irrationally sometimes, though," Amy said, rubbing his back now. "He's an emotional person. Sometimes they get in the way of his logical side."

Ethan stayed silent. Maybe she was right, but that didn't make him feel any worse. He hurt Mark, the man he loved. Anyone would feel awful after that, even if they _did_ mean it.

"I understand not being able to talk to him about everything. I feel the same way sometimes," Amy mumbled. "Feelings are hard, and just because you trust someone doesn't mean you can lay all those feelings out for them to read. However, if you have something on your mind, you should get it out. I'm here."

Ethan looked up at her. She was smiling, and he felt strangely comforted. She was right, but he felt disappointed it was coming from her and not Mark. He punched himself mentally for thinking that, he should be grateful, but that thought still tugged at the back of his mind.

"You're right," Ethan eventually sighed, giving in. "Promise you won't tell Mark, though?"

Amy nodded in reply.

"Alright," Ethan swallowed. His nerves were really getting the best of him right now. "So, uh. I- Fuck, how do I put this the right way?"  
  
"It's okay, take your time," Amy reassured him, continuing to rub his back. The touch was immensely comforting, now that he thought about it. It had been a while since he got something like that from someone.

"I'm bi," Ethan blurted out, staring intently at Amy's face to judge her reaction. Surprisingly, there was barely none at all - she just nodded for him to keep going. "A-And, I like one of my guy friends. Uhm, he- I think he's straight. And he has a girlfriend."

"Oh, Ethan..." Amy looked at him sympathetically, Ethan giggling in response.

"I-I know! I know, it's awful," Ethan groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. "But I just realized it, and I've been stressing about it over the past couple of days. I'm scared, Amy. What if I tell him and- and he hates me?"

"He won't hate you," Amy said, closing her eyes. "You really love him?"

Ethan nodded.

"And you two are really close?" Amy continued.

"I guess," Ethan mumbled, playing with the hem of his sweater.

"Then I'd doubt he'd be able to hate you in a million years," Amy finished, looking at him with so much love in her eyes. Platonic, of course. She cared about him a lot, and Ethan could tell, it made his insides all warm and fuzzy.

"You think so?" Ethan asked, proceeding to avoid eye contact with her.

"I know so," Amy smiled. "Is this all you were worried about, or is there anything else you need to tell me?"

Ethan thought for a moment, before deciding it was for the best to not tell her he was dying. "That's all. Thank you, Amy."  
  
"Of course, it's what friends do," Amy nodded, holding a hand out for him to help Ethan stand up. He took it, wincing quietly as the stabbing pain comes back momentarily. "Although, why didn't you want to talk to Mark about this? You two are like, best friends, I would've figured you'd trust him more than me."

Ethan froze. What was an excuse he could come up with, without stating that the 'guy' in question was Mark himself?

"I- Can I be honest with you, Amy?" Ethan asked, looking down. Amy nodded once again as a silent reply. "I... I was worried he would think lesser of me."  
  
That wasn't necessarily a lie. He _was_ worried about Mark's reaction to him being bisexual, but he was more worried about confessing to him.

"Ethan, you know he'd never!" Amy replied, squeezing his hand.

"I know! But..." Ethan trailed off, not wanting to continue.  
  
"Listen, you know he cares about you. He wants the best for you," Amy began, taking Ethan's other hand so she could make him face her. "And to be honest, he's like, the least likely person to ever think lesser of you, especially because of that."

Ethan looked at Amy quizzically, tilting his head to the side. She leans closer to him, looking in the direction where Mark went before looking back at him.

"Don't tell Mark I said this, but I'm ninety-nine percent sure he's not straight," Amy whispered, grinning at him. "I guess bi people just attract each other or something?"

"Woah, wait. You're...?" Ethan started, but doesn't finish his sentence as Amy slowly nods, somehow grinning wider. "Well. That makes three of us. The Three Musketeers!"

Amy giggled in response, sighing. "I love you, okay? Don't be afraid to bring this stuff up with Mark too."

Ethan nodded, and Amy pulled him into a quick hug. They separated and Amy took a step back.

"Are you okay, though? Physically, I mean," Amy asks, putting her hands in her pockets. "You look awful."

"Well, I _was_ just crying, so... thanks, I guess?" Ethan laughed, fiddling with his hands awkwardly.

"No, I know, you just look... sick, is what I mean," Amy mumbled. "Are you drinking water? Eating enough food? I know sometimes you forget to do those things."

"Yes, I'm fine, I promise. Just a little out of breath today, is all," Ethan stated.

"And the coughing?" Amy pressed. It was starting to get on Ethan's nerves, if he was honest. He just wanted to go home.

"Throat's tired from all the filming recently," Ethan said. He was a little surprised how fast he was coming up with these excuses. He felt guilty that he was lying so much to her, but he didn't want to risk it. "I swear, I'm fine."

Amy eyed him suspiciously, but sighed defeatedly. "Okay. Go make up with Mark, I think he's in the backyard."

Ethan nodded and walked over to the door to the backyard, opening it slowly. He saw Mark sitting next to the pool, and he made the risky decision of sitting next to him.

They sat in silence, not making conversation or eye contact whatsoever. Ethan was the first to speak.

"I'm sorry, Mark," Ethan mumbled, but he was quickly cut off before he could continue his apology.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted so strongly," Mark said, his voice no louder than the trees bustling in the wind. Ethan had never seen Mark so raw before. Sure, he'd seen him cry, but this wasn't that simple of an emotion. It felt deeper. "I understand why you wouldn't want to talk to me, and you have no obligation to do so. I just..."

Mark paused, taking a breath. He looked at Ethan, and it nearly broke him. Mark's eyes were puffy - he had definitely been crying - but they held so much more than just that. It wasn't something Ethan could describe. He just looked so upset, and worried, and Ethan felt absolutely awful.

When Mark spoke, his voice broke halfway through. "I worry about you sometimes, man."

Ethan could feel tears start to appear in his eyes again. "Damnit, Mark..."

He moved closer to him, heart racing, and he hugged him. He hugged him so tight, he never wanted to let go. Mark was warm, the crook of his neck smelled so good, and he shivered as Mark wrapped his arms around him in response.

"You're not supposed to worry," Ethan whispered in Mark's ear, tears falling onto his t-shirt.

"But I can't help it," Mark sniffled. Apparently he was starting to cry again too. "I care about you a lot, okay? I just want you to be happy, and I hate seeing you upset or in pain. It tears me apart."

Ethan just squeezed him tighter, gripping onto the fabric of Mark's shirt. "I don't want you to worry. You can't worry about me, be- because..."

"Because what?" Mark asked, tearing the hug apart to look at Ethan's face.

"Because then you'd start care too much," Ethan murmured, drying his face off, "and I'd be in even deeper of a hole than I already am. So please, j-just stop worrying about me."

"What?" Mark tilted his head in confusion. "Ethan, what are you saying?"

"Let's just keep recording, okay? It doesn't matter," Ethan said, avoiding the subject matter at hand. He was about to stand up, but Mark grabbed his wrist. He gasped silently, looking at Mark in shock.

"No. Ethan, explain yourself," Mark pushed, his voice stern.

"I- I said too much," Ethan whispered, eyes wide. "Please, Mark, can we- can we just drop this?"

Mark opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it and sighed, letting go of Ethan's wrist in the process. "Okay. Let's go."

Mark stood up, holding a hand out for Ethan. Ethan took it and Mark pulled him up, and while Ethan was expecting Mark to let go at some point, he didn't. They walk back inside the house together, hand in hand.

"You guys work things out?" Amy asked from the couch in their living room, looking up from her laptop.

Ethan just shrugged.  
  
"We worked it out enough," Mark sniffed.

"I'll take that as a yes, then," Amy said, closing her laptop and standing up to walk over to them. "You guys wanna take an actual break, or keep filming?"  
  
Mark and Ethan exchange a look, as if Mark was asking for permission to continue. Ethan nodded, squeezing Mark's hand.

"Yeah, we wanna keep filming," Mark said, squeezing Ethan's hand in return. "Although, some makeup would be nice? So we don't look like we were just crying for a good half hour, you know."

Amy laughed and nodded, going off to get her makeup bag.

Ethan looked at Mark again. He knew he shouldn't have, he never should have. But he did, so he might as well keep looking. To be honest, Ethan could've just told him he loved him right there. They were so close, he could hear Mark's heartbeat, he could see the way his chest was moving up and down with every breath he took. It felt like home. Mark felt like home.

"Are we okay?" Mark asked, taking Ethan's other hand so he could hold both.

Ethan froze for a second, looking down at his other hand that was now also in Mark's grasp. "Y-Yeah. We're okay, Mark."

Mark sighed in relief. "Okay. I love you, man."

"Love you too," Ethan said, but he didn't say it in the way he wanted to say it. He wished he could've said it with a different connotation, his heart was begging him to say it. To profess his love to him. To say, 'I am so desperately in love with you that my body decided to go ahead and get sick.', but he knew he couldn't. Mark did not feel that way. Mark had a girlfriend, whom he loved very much. It didn't matter if he swung both ways. He was never going to love Ethan the way he loved him.

"Alright, you two lovebirds, break it up!" Amy laughed, grinning as she jogged over to them. Ethan immediately ripped his hands away from Mark's, his face flush with embarrassment.  
  
Thankfully, Mark just laughed, grabbing the bag Amy held in her hands from her. "So... what exactly do we use to fix our faces up?"

"Look for concealer, a blender, and setting powder. Put the concealer on the places that are the reddest, blend it out, and set it with the powder. And don't rub your face any more than you already have," Amy stated, as if she didn't just word vomit all over the place. "Rubbing irritates the skin, which is what makes it red. Oh, and before you use the concealer, if your eyes are still swollen, pat under them with a cold washcloth. It'll make the swelling go down."

"How do you know all this, Amy?" Ethan asked, very overwhelmed with all of the information that was just given to him.

"I've had plenty of experiences with crying some place public and having to cover it up like nothing ever happened," Amy grinned, crossing her arms. "You learn a lot as a teenage girl with the pressures of society weighing on your back, you know."

"Oh," Ethan said stupidly. That was all he had to say?

"I'm just kidding, dude. Partially," Amy added, rolling her eyes. "Just... 'fix your faces up' and let me know when you're ready to get back to recording, okay?"

Mark and Ethan both nodded and Amy went back to presumably editing on her laptop.

Ethan takes Mark's hand again, and they both go into the bathroom together.

"I don't know why she trusted us with this," Ethan giggled as they searched in the makeup bag together.

"Me neither, but I'm sure we'll be fine. I've had to cover up plenty of hickeys in my life, this can't be much different," Mark mumbled, keeping his eyes on the bag. Ethan, on the other hand, was staring at Mark again.

Mark glanced at him from the corner of his eye, a small smirk appearing on his lips. "What? Never had to cover up hickeys with your mom's makeup before, pretty boy?"

"I- No!" Ethan squeaked, all flustered now. He could feel himself go as red as a tomato, and apparently Mark could tell as well, as he snickered quietly. "Also, 'pretty boy'? You aren't my boyfriend, dude."

"You're right, I'm not," Mark confirmed, continuing to look for the stuff they needed. "But you've called me babe. How's pretty boy any different?"

"Wh- I- I've called you babe while _filming,_ Mark! Y'know, to play up our relationship?" Ethan stuttered, rubbing his thighs anxiously. This was not making his crush go away. "Also, shut the fuck up, pretty boy is worse and you know it!"

Mark just laughed. It's like he got off on making Ethan embarrassed. Not literally, of course (though Ethan sort of wished it _was_ literally), but still. Ethan just huffed and continued to help Mark look, quickly shaking off his very visible embarrassment.

"Ah, here's the concealer," Mark announced, holding a small container with some random brand label on it.

"I found the powder, I think?" Ethan said, also holding a small container with the same brand label on it. Quickly noticing something made from foam poking out from under a few things, Ethan snatched that too. "And here's the blender!"

"Alright, so... How do you wanna do this?" Mark asked, making direct eye contact with Ethan. His eyes were so pretty, fuck. 

"What do you mean?" Ethan asked without thinking too much.

"Well, we could put makeup on ourselves, or we could put it on each other," Mark said, fidgeting with the concealer. "Whichever you're more comfortable with."

"Oh," Ethan said. Fuck. Okay, he had two options to choose from - doing it on himself while Mark awkwardly sits and watches, which admittedly would be easier. _Or,_ Mark would put the makeup on him, and it could possibly be very homoerotic, but it might look botched. Look pretty for the camera, or get close to Mark and fulfill his stupid love brain?

Ethan decided his love brain was more important. "You can put it on me, so you aren't awkwardly waiting for me to finish or anything."

Mark just nodded determinedly, setting the concealer on the sink in front of them. He grabbed a washcloth from the sink cupboards, ran it under the tap for a few seconds, and handed it to Ethan, who took it in his open hand.

"Amy said to pat it under your eyes and it'd make the swelling go away. You can do that while I figure out some stuff," Mark said, forcefully taking the blender and setting powder from Ethan's other hand.

"O-Okay," Ethan stuttered, putting the washcloth up to his face. It felt so nice against his skin, cool, calming, serene. He patted it softly around his whole face, but paused as Mark took his wrist. "What are you doing?"

"Testing the concealer on your skin to make sure it isn't too light or dark," Mark stated simply as he swiped the concealer stick onto the back of Ethan's hand.

"Oh," Ethan exhaled. He didn't realize how pent up and touch-starved he actually was, but the fact that Mark wasn't even fazed over this made him realize how positively screwed he was. He had to keep reminding himself that Mark didn't feel that way, but he was also reminded of the fact that he was the one who asked for this. He was practically asking to die at this point.

"Are you alright?" Mark asked, looking at the younger man.

"Yeah, no, uh- I'm fine," Ethan cleared his throat, continuing to pat his face. "Continue."

"Can't continue unless you've finished with the washcloth," Mark hummed, dunking the stick in the concealer a couple of times before taking it back out. He looked at Ethan expectantly, waiting.

"Oh, yeah, I- Sorry," Ethan mumbled, putting the washcloth on the sink. "Go ahead."

Mark hesitated. "Sit up there."

"What?" Ethan blinked.

"On the sink," Mark said, nodding his head towards it. "It'll make it easier. Trust me."  
  
"If you say so," Ethan rolled his eyes, pushing himself up onto the sink. "Don't gouge my eyes out."

"I won't if you stay still, dork," Mark grinned slightly, moving closer to Ethan so their faces were inches away. Ethan's breath gets caught in his throat.

Mark simply swiped the concealer stick on the places that were the reddest - under Ethan's eyes, around his nose, and on his cheeks. Meanwhile, Ethan was trying very hard to stay still. It felt like it was impossible, he wanted to move so badly, to put his hand on Mark's face and pull him in for a kiss. He just blinked instead.

"Okay," Mark mumbled to himself, setting the stick on the counter and picking up the blender. "I'm gonna blend it out now, alright?"

Ethan nodded. He couldn't help but think about how soft and careful the older man was being with him. He'd never seen this side of Mark before. Sure, he had his moments, and he knew Mark cared about him plenty, but this was different. This was on purpose. Was he fucking with him, or was he being genuine? Ethan always had a hard time telling the difference between Mark being serious or joking around.

His thoughts were cut short, as Mark started dabbing the beauty blender along the concealer spots. Ethan stiffened, trying not to breathe. He closed his eyes so he didn't have to look at Mark's stupidly pretty face.

"You can breathe, you know," Mark noted. Ethan opened his eyes, looking at the man in front of him. He had a small, stupid smile on his face. The dope.

"Yeah, I knew that," Ethan said rolling his eyes. "I'm not an idiot or anything."

" _Definitely_ not," Mark grinned. "Now shut up, I don't want to ruin this."

Ethan goes silent, just waiting patiently. Thinking. Thinking about Mark kissing him softly after finishing up with the concealer, telling him he looked beautiful, and that he loved him. He knew it was silly to fantasize, but he couldn't help it. He was _right there,_ right in front of his face. And extremely close. He could hear him breathing.

"Okay, I'm gonna admit," Mark started, "I have no idea how to use the setting powder. Do you just put it... on your face?"

"Mark," Ethan giggled, "Mark, there's a puffy thing in it. You pat it in the powder and then pat the person's face, and then the concealer will stay."

"Oh," Mark said. "I knew that."

"Yeah, you aren't an idiot or anything!" Ethan laughed, mocking himself. Mark laughed in return. It made him happy to make Mark laugh so much. He was happy that Mark was happy. "Anyways, I can do the powder myself. It's not that hard."

"If you say so," Mark shrugged, setting the blender on the counter and trading it out with the concealer wand.

Ethan hopped off the sink so he could look at himself in the mirror. He unscrewed the top of the container of powder, pat the 'puffy thing', as he put it, in the powder and pat his face with it. There was a cloud of powder with the first pat, which made him wheeze as he breathed it in. He heard a snort next to him.

"Mark! Be quiet, let me do this," Ethan grumbled, continuing to pat his face. Eventually, he felt like he had a good enough layer on his face. He lightly brushed off the excess with his fingers.

"You look great," Mark smiled, which made Ethan's stomach do a flip. He hated himself.

"Great meaning I don't look like a disaster?" Ethan grinned, taking another quick look at himself in the mirror.

"Sure," Mark chuckled.

Ethan flipped around to meet Mark's face. "Shit, how long did this take? I still have to do you!"

He cringed internally at how he worded that, but Mark didn't seem to notice.

"It's only been about 15 minutes," Mark said, looking at the time on his phone. "Don't worry though, you don't have to do anything to my face. I tested the concealer, it doesn't match. I'd look as pale as a ghost."

Ethan didn't know whether to take offense to that or not, but he didn't care anyways. "Well... I guess you don't really look like you've been crying anymore. You ready to start filming again?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Mark huffed.

They head out to the living room again to let Amy know they're ready to record. Amy, of course, was already ready. She quickly complimented the both of them before they started filming again. It took Ethan a few minutes to get back into his groove (and to remember what he was talking about), but they basically picked up where they left off.

The rest of the day of filming was alright. They weren't exactly at their peak, considering the emotional day they had, but Ethan figured they covered it pretty well. They did some other stuff along with the helium therapy, like chewing way too much gum as a 'challenge', and drawing memes from memory. At the end of the day, Ethan was exhausted. He hadn't eaten much at all, so the nausea was starting to get to him, and his whole body hurt. Yet it was only around 7 PM.

He let his body just crash against Mark's couch in the living room. It was so comfortable, and frankly, he really didn't want to leave.

"Eth," Mark whispered to him, shaking his shoulder gently. "You good, man?"

Ethan just groaned in response, slowly opening his eyes to look at the older man. He was crouched down next to him, so he was eye-level, but also very close.

"You can crash here if you're that tuckered out," Mark said, petting Ethan's hair.

"Mm, no," Ethan yawned, sitting up, "I'll be fine. I can drive."

He stumbles to his feet, stretching his arms out.

"You're certain?" Mark asked, standing up with the younger one. "I don't want you dying in a car crash or something."

"Yeah, 'm certain," Ethan mumbled, waving the other man away.

He was just about to take a step, before the world started spinning. His head felt heavy, his legs felt like they were going to buckle under his weight. They almost did, and he almost fell, before someone scrambled over and caught him, pulling him back up on his feet.

"You're staying."

Ethan looked up at Mark, who was looking at him like a stern parent. "But-"

"No but's, Ethan," Mark stated. "You almost fainted just now. I am not letting you drive home, especially at this time."

Ethan just whined, he was too tired to object. Mark walked him over to the couch, which he flopped onto, letting his body sink into the comfy cushions.

"Stay here," Mark said, "I'll get you some pillows and a blanket or two."

Ethan mumbled in return, waving him off. He took a deep breath, and sighed, a small wheeze trailing off the end of the sigh. Oh, yeah. That was an issue. Mark was right though, he shouldn't be driving like this. But what if he had more coughing fits through the night? What if he coughed up more petals, and Mark and Amy found out?

His eyes snapped open. What would happen? Would Mark question him? Would he have to confess? He didn't want to go to the doctor. He didn't need a doctor, they couldn't do jack shit regardless.

However, he was quickly brought back to reality by a heavy blanket being thrown on top of him, making him have a coughing fit, like the one from earlier today.

"Shit, sorry," Mark apologized, quickly coming over to Ethan's side.

Ethan wished he could respond right now, but he was busy coughing up a storm. He just gave Mark a thumbs up with one hand, the other over his mouth. 

"You sure you're alright? Your lungs must be pretty sore by now," Mark remarked, putting a hand on Ethan's back.

Ethan shook his head, quickly standing up and rushing to the bathroom before he vomited all over this innocent man's floor.

He slammed the door behind him, locking it quickly and barely managing to lean over the toilet before he started dry heaving. Fuck. He just had to breathe, he just had to take back control.

He took a small breath in through his nose, exhaling through his mouth. He gagged a few more times, but luckily nothing came up.

It was over, and he was left with nothing but a pile of petals, a blood spattered toilet, and bloodied hands. He sighed. His throat hurt so much. He felt awful. He noticed his reflection in the mirror, and he also _looked_ awful.  
  
He figured he needed to clean up though, so he threw the petals in the toilet and flushed, washed his hands, and wiped around the toilet seat, making sure there were no spare spots of blood that anyone could find.

He flinched as a knock came from the other side of the door.

"Hey, are you okay? Did you puke?" Mark's worried voice came from outside the bathroom door.

"No," Ethan choked out, his throat burning at the use of his vocal chords. "Gagged, heaved, nothing came out."

"I am so sorry," Mark said, his voice quiet. "I didn't mean to do that, fuck. I feel awful."

"Hey," Ethan walked up to the door, unlocking it and opening it, "no, it's alright. I felt it coming on anyways."

Mark just gave him a worried look, brow furrowed.

"I want to sleep," Ethan sighed, shoving past the older man. "Thank you for the couch. Goodnight, Mark."

"Goodnight," Mark echoed back quietly.

As Ethan laid back down on the couch, he heard Mark shuffle to his room. He inhaled deeply, his lungs frantically begging for air, and exhaled. He would've thought more about what just happened, but his brain was already starting to shut down.

And soon, he was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize for any typos!! im trying to get used to writing in past-tense as its not my usual tbh but i guess its important? regardless i slip up sometimes, this is all unbeta'd and i dont always catch it b4 i post :(
> 
> also i wrote 2/3rds of this while listening to lemon demon's album spirit phone on repeat. my brain is on fire lemon demon is my writing music now this is the most ive written in months holy FUCK. thank u neil cicierega.
> 
> but anyways i bet you guys can tell i know nothing about makeup huh AHAHSJDHHH
> 
> anyway this is stupid im sorry for talking so much i just love how this chapter came out ok dont kill me. hope yall enjoyed!! tysm for the kudos and lovely comments yall are keeping me GOING


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan has a dream, and tensions start to rise as Amy questions his words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETHAN CONTEMPLATES SUICIDE AT SOME POINT DURING THIS. LEAVE NOW IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE THOSE THEMES. take care of yourself please!!
> 
> nothing REALLY happens in his dream that would be weird and out of place in an angst fic. sorta... its not really that important so if toasty make outs make you uncomfortable you can skip past it dont worry!
> 
> also they get angy. if you couldn't tell from the summary.

"M-Mark, we shouldn't..."

Ethan whined as he was pinned against a wall, Mark's hands crawling up his shirt. Ethan's insides felt like they were going to burst.

"I know," Mark whispered in his ear, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down Ethan's spine. "That's what makes this so exciting."

"But- Fuck," Ethan breathed, trying desperately not to melt in Mark's arms, "Mark, what about Amy?"

Mark noticeably hesitated at the mention of Amy, but quickly went back to it.

"She won't know," he said, starting to plant small kisses along the side of Ethan's neck. "I don't have to tell her."

Ethan struggled to suppress a noise from coming out of his throat, swallowing nervously before pushing Mark away. "No, Mark, I- I can't do this. I'd feel awful."

"Please," Mark practically begged, his eyes hungry as he looked Ethan up and down. "Just this once? I just want to be close to you, I want to show you how much I love you."

Ethan bit his lip, brow furrowed. His heart said yes, this was what he was waiting for. But his brain said no, what if they got caught? What if he let it slip to Amy and he'd lose both of his friends? This could realistically go horribly wrong.

But Ethan wasn't thinking realistically. So he wrapped his arms around Mark's neck, and kissed him, full on. Mark quickly caught on, wrapping his own arms around Ethan's waist and pulling him closer. The kiss didn't last long, though. Mark moved on fast, leaving kisses along Ethan's jaw and neck.

"God, I love you," Ethan groaned, closing his eyes and tilting his head so Mark could get a better angle.

"I love you too? But you gotta wake up, Ethan," Mark replied suddenly and randomly.  
  


Ethan was just about to shoot him a confused glance, but when he opened his eyes, he was met with Amy leaning over him.

"Fuck!" Ethan flinched, curling up in a ball and covering his face up instinctively. "Christ, you scared the shit out of me, Amy!"

"Good morning," Amy laughed, taking a sip of what Ethan assumed to be coffee from a travel cup. "Having a nice dream, huh? Was it about your boyfriend?"

Ethan's face immediately flushed, and Amy just giggled and walked off into their kitchen. "No! M-Maybe, but... fuck off, he's not my boyfriend!"

"Boyfriend, huh?"

Ethan froze. Shit, shit shit shit shit shit. _Shit, mother of fuck, not Mark, not now._ He took a glance at Amy and noticed there was a grimace on her face.

"Well? I would like to be caught up on this whole situation!" Mark said, somehow appearing right next to Ethan on the couch. Ethan stared at him, taking in all the information laid out on his face, and sighed in relief as he noticed the man was not angry in the slightest. In fact, he even looked a little amused.

"Uh..." Ethan mumbled, sitting up and tossing the blanket he had off his legs. "A-Amy's just fucking with me, I just... I have a- a crush, on this guy. He isn't my boyfriend."

"Oh, alright," Mark stated nonchalantly, as if Ethan didn't basically just come out to him. What a way to wake up. "I didn't know you were gay."

Ethan shook his head, stretching his arms out. "Bi, not gay. Women are still hot, sure, but you have to admit, Ryan Reynolds? Now _there's_ a hottie."

"Mm," Mark hummed in the middle of a sip of his own coffee. "Valid point. He's pretty hot. Who's the lucky guy, though?"

"Nobody," Ethan blurted out, a blush dusting his cheeks again. Little did Mark know, Ethan was talking to him right now. "No one you'd know, I mean. Sorry to disappoint."

"You can't even tell me the first letter of his name?" Mark whined, giving Ethan puppy dog eyes.  
  
"No," Ethan mumbled, "cause then you might get ideas. Anyway, he has a girlfriend. I have completely no chance with him, so I'm trying to not think about it too much."

"Alright," Mark said, reaching to ruffle Ethan's hair. "Whatever you say, chuckles."

Ethan just rolled his eyes in response while Mark walked over into the kitchen to say good morning to his girlfriend. Ethan's eyes followed the older man over there, seeing him wrap an arm around Amy's waist as he gave her a kiss on the cheek. It broke Ethan's heart into little bits and pieces. He knew he shouldn't have looked, but he did. He felt awful. _He_ wanted to be the one in Mark's arms. He wanted Mark to whisper sweet nothings into his ear, and give him kisses all over, both giggling.

But it wasn't going to happen. Ethan _knew_ it wasn't, and yet his heart and his lungs ached for it to be true.

He suddenly realized how shitty he felt and rubbed his eyes. Shuffling to the kitchen, he headed to the cupboards and grabbed a random mug, now absentmindedly pouring coffee into it. He wished. He wished so badly to be in Amy's place. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he couldn't stop thinking about it. He couldn't stop thinking about the dream he'd had, and he wished he didn't wish for more.

"Ethan!"

A voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he noticed he was spilling lukewarm coffee everywhere, the mug now overflowing with the dark, watery liquid.

"Shit," he hissed, quickly setting the now almost empty pot onto the counter. "I'm sorry, I- I didn't notice. I'll clean up."

"No, it's okay. Don't stress," Mark said, calm and collected. "I can clean it up. Just sit, relax."

Ethan looked at Mark in confusion as he ran off to get paper towels. He then looked at Amy, who shrugged, looking just as confused as Ethan.

Defeated, he simply walked off to the couch and sat down with a sigh. He almost took a drink of his coffee, but paused before it could reach his mouth. His hands were so shaky, the coffee was almost spilling out of the mug. Inhaling sharply, he slowly put the mug down onto the table in front of him and held his hands out to get a better look.

You could see them trembling from miles away. Ethan's heart and thoughts were both racing. What if they noticed? They couldn't notice. God, if they noticed, his life would be ruined. He'd be sent to the hospital, and they'd tell Mark and Amy he was sick. Then he'd have to tell Mark he was in love with him, and then he'd be ostracized from the group forever.

Someone made the couch weigh down next to him. Based on how much it sinked, he figured it was Amy.

"Hey, Eth? Are you okay?" Amy asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Ethan looked at her from the corner of his eye, not willing to make full eye contact with her. His hands were still out in front of him, still vibrating. He was certain Amy looked at them, but she didn't mention it. "Food, I- I need food."

Amy nodded, and the added weight was lifted from the couch. Ethan could faintly hear her open the fridge and start digging through things, but the ringing in his ears was louder. His heart was still running at full speed. He was absolutely petrified.

Before he could worry more, a cup of yogurt and a spoon were firmly placed on the table. Thankfully, his eyes decided to focus on that instead of his hands, and he quickly snatched up the cup and spoon, tearing the foil off the top and stuffing a spoonful of yogurt into his mouth. He heard a giggle come from his right side, and he turned to face Amy, who was looking at him from behind her cup.

"Thank you," Ethan mumbled, mouth full. He swallowed, the cool dairy product soothing his throat immediately. "Hadn't eaten anything all day yesterday, I think my body's starting to feel it now."

"Why didn't you tell us you were hungry yesterday?" Amy asked, a concerned look on her face.

"Well, we were kinda caught up in stuff," Ethan giggled quietly, eating more of the yogurt. "I wasn't hungry, anyways. Appetite hasn't been large recently."

"Ethan," Amy sighed. She looked disappointed, and that made Ethan's heart hurt. "I know you don't want me pressing into your life, but are you sure you're okay? You told me you were eating, and now suddenly you haven't had an appetite as of late? Your stories don't match up."

"Amy..." Ethan mumbled, looking down at the ground. He felt so guilty. He knew he wasn't a good liar, and covering up a deadly illness wasn't exactly easy either. "I'm sorry. I- I haven't been as honest to you as I could've been."

"What's wrong?" Amy's voice was urgent now. When Ethan glanced at her, he noticed that she looked... scared. He groaned internally, he knew he shouldn't have said anything. He sighed and put the cup of yogurt back on the table.

"I... If I tell you, you have to promise to not take me to a doctor," Ethan said, knowing very well he was still going to fudge the truth, "and you have to promise to not tell Mark. He can't know."

"Take you to a doctor..?" Amy echoed Ethan's words, furrowing her brow. The tension felt like a thick fog in the air. "Ethan, you know I can't promise that. If I find out you're dying, I'm taking you to the emergency room."

Ethan's heart dropped. He figured this would happen, but it's still a disappointment. He picked up his yogurt and stood up. "I'm fine, then."

"You know what, what the hell is wrong with you?" Amy laughed - not out of joy, but frustration and anger. The sudden change in tone in the woman's voice made Ethan stop in his tracks. "You- Me and Mark are crazy worried about you, and you pull this shit?"

"You wouldn't understand. I know I can't tell you now, so I'm not going to," Ethan stated bluntly, starting to walk to their front door. "I told him not to worry."

"He told me what happened last night."

Ethan froze.

"He broke down crying, he felt so bad for what he did, you know that?" Amy choked out. It sounded like she was about to cry. Ethan's heart pounded, blood rushing in his ears. "He thought he almost killed you. And now you're running off like this, with no regard for our feelings?"

"Your feelings are all that I've been able to think about!" Ethan snapped, tears starting to well up in his eyes. "Every decision I make is always for you two. There are things that I keep from you for your own good."

"For our own good?" Amy said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Wow, you're really making us feel _so_ great right now, Ethan. How selfish do you have to be?"

"You think I _want this_?" Ethan hissed, turning around and squinting at her. She was crying, and soon his own tears started streaming down his face. "You think I _want_ to be lying through my teeth when my body is constantly in pain? I'm the exact opposite of selfish, I hope you know that. This is the most selfless thing I've ever done."

"Fuck you," Amy spat, wiping her eyes.

"Guys, what the fuck?"

Ethan's head snapped to the side, looking at Mark just standing there, paper towels in hand. He didn't think he'd ever turned his head so fast in his life. Instead of saying something, he choked out a sob and turned on his heel, opening the front door and slamming it behind him. He didn't care if he didn't have shoes on, the concrete wasn't nearly as painful as his lungs being stabbed by what felt like thousands of invisible knives.

"Amy, what did you do?" Mark asked, his tone accusatory.

All he saw was Ethan running away, and Amy glaring knives into their door. He figured it was about Ethan being secretive around them, but what had caused it?

"You're blaming _m_ _e_?" Amy grinned, hot tears still running down her cheeks. "Ethan's the one not telling us anything, you should be mad at him!"

Mark sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm mad at both of you. You're being irrational, Amy. I'm sure he has plenty reasons of why not to tell us this stuff."

"You were just crying to me last night about how you wished he'd tell you what was wrong, and _now_ you've changed your mind?" Amy scoffed, crossing her arms. "What changed, Mark?"

Mark hesitated. Honestly, he didn't know. Why _was_ he siding with Ethan on this? After all, Amy was his girlfriend. Wasn't he supposed to be more biased towards her?

"I don't know," Mark said. "But arguing with him about this isn't going to fix anything."

They were silent for a moment. Suddenly, Amy walked up to Mark and gave him a hug. Mark returned the hug and started rubbing circles on her back.

"God, I hate it when you're right," Amy mumbled. She broke the hug up and just looked at him pitifully. It broke his heart to see his girlfriend like this. "I'm sorry for snapping at you. Can you talk with him? I doubt he'd want to see me right now."

Mark nodded silently and walked to the front door, opening it slowly. He looked around - Ethan was nowhere to be seen. His heart sped up. What if he ran off? What if he died or something?

He breathed in, and out, shaking his head. That was silly. He stepped outside and began to look for Ethan.

Meanwhile, Ethan had locked himself in his car, curled up and sobbing his heart out. His brain repeated the phrase in his head - 'How selfish do you have to be?'

He thought he was being a good friend. He thought this is what was best for all of them, but he hadn't stopped to actually think about how they felt. Was he really being selfish? He didn't want to think about it.

Thankfully, he didn't have to, as he was torn from his thoughts by a sudden knock on his window.

It was Mark. Damnit.

Ethan just shook his head, not wanting to talk to anyone. Mark knocked harder and more persistently on the window. This was so stupid, why was he so emotional?

Oh, yeah, he was dying. That would make someone emotional, he supposed. He took a deep breath in, and exhaled shakily. His eyes were still watery and he was sure he looked like a wreck, but he unlocked the car anyway, nodding over to the seat on his right.

Mark nodded and went around the car, opening the car door and sliding himself into the seat next to Ethan. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Ethan hiccuping every now and then.

"Amy says she's sorry," Mark mumbled, breaking the unbearable silence. "She didn't mean to make you so upset."

"No, s-she was right to- to be upset with m-me," Ethan sniffled, rubbing his eyes. "I was being se- selfish."

"You both said things you didn't mean," Mark said, putting a reassuring hand on Ethan's shoulder. He leaned into the touch. It was simple, and definitely didn't have any meaning behind it, but Ethan cherished it anyways. It was comforting.

They both went silent once again. Ethan, deciding to take a risk, laid his head on Mark's shoulder. Mark wrapped an arm around the younger man and laid his head against Ethan's.

This was nice. Ethan had been wanting something like this for so long, and while he knew it was just friendly, in his head, he twisted it into something else. Something more. Because it's what he needed. Literally, unfortunately.

"Mark?" Ethan mumbled, his voice clogged with spit and snot.

Mark hummed in reply, waiting patiently for the younger man to speak up. Instead of doing so, he shifted, pulling Mark into a tight hug.

"Listen," Ethan began, voice muffled by Mark's shirt, "don't worry about me, okay? I'll survive."

Mark slowly reciprocated the hug, taking a moment to think of a reply.

"I know you don't want me to worry, but I want you to know that I will," he mumbled into Ethan's shoulder. "Me and Amy both will. And while I understand that you don't feel comfortable with telling us what's wrong, at least let us help."

Ethan pulled away, just looking in Mark's eyes. They looked worried. He wished that they were crinkled from a smile right now, but he figured that not all wishes could be fulfilled.

"I can't, Mark," Ethan said, looking away. "I'm going to get worse. This is only the second day."

"The second day of what?" Mark asked, brow furrowed.

Ethan paused. "You know what, forget I said anything. It isn't important."

"Ethan, _please_ ," Mark begged. This wasn't worth it. Ethan had to remind himself that this wasn't worth it and that it was going to make everything worse.

So instead of telling Mark what was up, he just smiled and gave him a pat on the head. Taking a shaky breath, he opened the car door and stepped out of it, making his way back to Mark's house so he could grab his things and leave. This was the right decision. He wasn't being selfish, he was making sure he wasn't a burden, that was automatically the selfless choice. He was doing what was right. Right?

"Ethan, wait!" Mark called out to him, rushing out of the car. "Please, for fucks sake, just talk to us!"

Ethan kept telling himself he had to breathe. He had to ignore Mark. For their sake.

" _Ethan!_ "

This day was the worst day of his life. He felt like everyone in the world hated him. He'd understand if they did, he was making so many wrong decisions. This was probably one he was going to regret later, too. But all he knew was that he had to do this.

He walked calmly into their house, ignoring Amy trying to start up a conversation with him, taking his shoes and phone and walking back out the door. He just needed to get out of there, and fast.

He ignored Mark's protests. All he could hear was the pounding in his ears. He had to do this.

He hopped into his car, locked the doors, fumbled with his keys before turning the ignition on. His eyes darted to Mark, who was just standing there in the driveway, staring at him hopelessly. Ethan knew he shouldn't have looked.

He drove home. Simple as that. Spencer was probably starving, he didn't get dinner last night and he didn't get breakfast today. He tried to feel bad, but he really couldn't feel anything at all. Something flipped a switch in his brain that made him turn his feelings off. Ethan figured it was most likely the stress. But did it really matter?

He'd probably be better off without them at all.

Pulling into his garage, he stepped out of his car and walked into his home. Spencer was waiting for him at the door, panting happily.

"Sorry I wasn't here last night, buddy," Ethan said, giving Spencer some small pats.

He decided he was just going to feed Spencer and then go back to his room. It was still light out. It couldn't be that late, so he couldn't go to sleep, but he just wanted to be away from the world.

He grabbed a can of dog food for Spencer, opening it and dumping it into his food bowl once again. Spencer immediately darted to eat his food. Ethan sighed, and walked upstairs.

Once he reached his bedroom, he took his phone out and sat on the bed. It was only 2:30-ish, so he was right - not late at all.

He noticed, however, that he had multiple missed calls and texts from both Amy and Mark. He contemplated not looking at them at all, but eventually he gave in. Might as well. There was nothing else for him to really do, right?

He unlocked his phone and looked at his texts. Mark's first, of course.

 **Mark, 2:11 PM:** _Ethan, please say you don't hate me._

 **Mark, 2:12 PM:** _I'm so worried about you. I know you're driving right now, but please text me back soon._

 **Mark, 2:15 PM:** _I'm sorry._

 **Mark, 2:21 PM:** _God I bet i sound really clingy sending you all these texts_

 **Mark, 2:22 PM:** _I cany loswe you. Youre mmy best friend man i cant fuckign lose you_

Best friend. Ethan laughed at that. That was right, he was his best friend. That was all he was going to be.

He didn't want to think about that right now though, so he ignored the thought, ignored the apparent typos that made Ethan think about Mark crying over him again, and continued on with Amy's texts.

 **Amy, 2:13 PM:** _marks really distraught. what happened out there?_

 **Amy, 2:17 PM:** _did he say something wrong or..?_ **  
**

**Amy, 2:18 PM:** _get back to me asap eth. we love you. and im sorry_

At least she apologized. He was reminded of the spat they had together. Now that he thought about it, it really was silly, wasn't it? All of this was so silly. Ethan was going to die, and neither of them could do anything about it. Why make them stress over him if they couldn't fix it?

He got a notification on his phone. It was a text from Mark.

 **Mark, 2:38 PM:** _I knwo you saw this yyou fucking bastard. Thank god for the seen bullshit that pheones do god damn i thought you fucking died. Reply, please_

Well, now he just felt bad. Maybe he shouldn't have looked at these messages.

Regardless, he sighed, getting ready to type up a bullshit excuse.

 **Ethan, 2:40 PM:** _hi mark. sorry for letting you down, i'll try not to do it again. i don't hate you, btw, but i'm tired. can we talk later?_

 **Mark, 2:45 PM:** _No, fuck no! You dony get to weasel your way out of this you scared the livinh shit out of me. Why are you acting so distant? you were fine a couple days ago, what happened? Is it the crush thing?_

Ethan hummed quietly to himself, thinking. He didn't think Mark would have even remembered the whole crush conversation, considering all the shit that happened today.

 **Ethan, 2:48 PM:** _sort of. it's hard to explain._

 **Mark, 2:49 PM:** _Try and explain it to me. Please, I just want to help you._

He was just about to type a reply, before Mark beat him to it.

 **Mark, 2:49 PM:** _I won't tell Amy. Just you and me. Promise._

Fuck. That made his heart perk up real fast. He could hear it beating again, and he could feel his breath quicken. The idea of keeping secrets from Amy made his mind wander to the dream he had this morning. He didn't want his body to do this to him. He didn't want to feel, but he did.

He tried typing something, anything. The replies ranged from 'I'm in love with you', to 'I can't fucking do this anymore'. He didn't know what to say.

 **Ethan, 2:54 PM:** _i don't know how to tell you what's wrong without telling you the whole truth. and i can't do that, at least not yet._

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Mark immediately started typing, but apparently he was having a hard time coming up with something to say, too, as the bubble disappeared and reappeared multiple times before he replied.

 **Mark, 2:57 PM:** _When do you think you can tell me the whole truth?_

The truth was, he didn't know. He didn't know if he was ever going to be able to tell him. And that was scary. He couldn't tell him without telling Amy first, because he really did not want her to find out from Mark, and telling her was going to be rough, _especially_ after the fight they had.

 **Ethan, 3:01 PM:** _honestly? i don't know. i don't know how much time i have to tell you, either. but i want to, i swear to god. it's been so hard keeping this secret from both you and amy._

 **Mark, 3:02 PM:** _Secret? As in singular? It's just one thing?_

Ethan squinted at his screen. Why did it matter to him? Would he have hated him even more if he found out that Ethan had multiple secrets?

 **Ethan, 3:02 PM:** _i guess? why does it matter?_

 **Mark, 3:03 PM:** _No reason, sorry. Anyway, what do you mean you don't know how much time you have to tell me?_

Now, how was he going to explain _that_ to Mark without telling him he was dying? He could make up an excuse like 'I'm going on a vacation in a few weeks' or something, but even he wouldn't believe that shit.

 **Ethan, 3:05 PM:** _again, it's hard to explain. i guess i just have a limited amount of time to talk to you about this. that's all_

 **Mark, 3:05 PM:** _Why, though?_

 **Ethan, 3:06 PM:** _i can't say. i'm sorry mark._

Ethan waited expectantly for Mark to reply, even for the typing bubble to pop up, but it didn't. He knew Mark saw it, the message said seen. So why was he struggling to reply? Was it something Ethan said?

 **Mark, 3:10 PM:** _Don't be. It's not your fault. Thank you for talking with me._

 **Ethan, 3:10 PM:** _of course._

He took a moment to think about whether or not he wanted to send what he was thinking about sending, but decided, fuck it. He had nothing else to lose.

 **Ethan, 3:11 PM:** _i love you_

Mark replied almost immediately, like he was waiting for this.

 **Mark, 3:11 PM:** _I love you too. Don't forget that, okay? Talk later._

And with that, Ethan turned his phone off and threw it to the other side of his bed. He wasn't lying when he said he was tired - his body was exhausted, and he just wanted his brain to shut up.

As much as he tried to repress it, his heart still skipped a beat when he got the most recent message from Mark. God, he wished he could hear that from him every day. He wanted to wake up to Mark saying he loved him. He wanted to go to sleep in Mark's arms, while he told Ethan how much he loved him. And he'd tell him every day, because he wouldn't want Ethan to forget. He'd practically drill it into his head.

The thought of that made Ethan laugh bitterly, because he knew he'd never get it. _Amy_ would, but not him. What did Mark love so much about Amy anyways? He wouldn't exactly say he was better than her, but what made her any different than him?

Guilt and regret seeped through him as he thought that. Why did he feel so jealous? They were happy, Amy made Mark so happy, wasn't that what Ethan wanted? He wanted Mark to be happy, and he was.

He wasn't when Ethan was around, though. Ethan stressed them out. He made them worry. Mark would say that's what friends do, they worry, they care, but Ethan didn't want that. Because when they worried, the tension would rise. One of them would blow up. And this situation would repeat.

He knew he couldn't control their feelings. He couldn't just make them stop worrying, especially considering how he was acting recently. He knew why they were worried. He just wanted everyone to be happy again, but he didn't know how to do that.

If he told them that he was sick, he'd either have to tell Mark he loved him, or try and find someone to pretend to have a crush on. If he confessed to Mark, either Mark would reject him and then they could never be friends again because of awkwardness (thankfully he wouldn't live long afterwards anyway), or Mark would hate him. Or, Mark would accept it and they'd life happily ever after. (Ethan knew there was very little chance of that happening) Alternatively, Amy would be pissed and their friendship would be ruined.

If he kept on hiding it from them, he would die. Simple as that. They would worry, and worry, and worry, up until his untimely death. He didn't want to die from _this_. He'd honestly rather just kill himself, quick and easy.

Ethan blinked, slightly surprised at what his brain was coming up with. Was he really thinking about suicide? Sure, he had dealt with depression for over half of his life, but not once did he ever think about offing himself.

But here he was. Thinking about it, and how it would make everyone's problems go away.

In any normal situation, he probably would've texted Mark, asking him to come over so he could get his mind off things, but he figured that Mark coming over wouldn't exactly help him this time.

He just sighed and laid down on his pillow, curling up into a ball. He was just going to take a quick nap. He very much needed it. He sort of wished he could sleep forever. But he wouldn't get to see Mark again, would he?

Maybe that was for the best. For the both of them.

He closed his eyes, his breathing slowing. Eventually, Ethan slept, not a thought in his mind.

Ethan blinked, slowly waking from his slumber. It was dark out now - how long was he out?

He crawled over to his phone on the other side of the bed and looked at the time.

12:47 AM?

"Jesus Christ," he mumbled to himself, rubbing his eyes. He didn't mean to sleep that long, it was just supposed to be a nap.

He almost went back to bed, considering how late it was and how badly his body still needed it, but then he noticed he'd gotten a text from Mark. That definitely woke him up.

Groaning, Ethan unlocked his phone to check what Mark had sent. The notification said '3 minutes ago', so for some reason Mark was randomly texting him in the middle of the night. Weird. He really only messaged him that late when he knew Ethan was going to be awake, like when they were on a time crunch and both had to edit videos for Unus Annus.

 **Mark, 12:44 AM:** _You awake?_

That's all? Ethan deflated, a little disappointed. He thought Mark would have something more to say, but whatever.

 **Ethan, 12:48 AM:** _unfortunately yes, what's up man?_

 **Mark, 12:48 AM:** _Oh, sorry. Did I wake you?_

Stupid Mark. Why did he have to be so considerate all the time?

 **Ethan, 12:49 AM:** _no, i don't think so... anyway what do you need?_

 **Mark, 12:50 AM:** _Nothing, I guess. Just lonely. Amy's not around, I don't know where she went._

His first thought was to text Ethan? Yeah, not suspicious at all. Ethan decided he'd bring that up, because why not. His sleep deprived state made his brain not think so clearly.

 **Ethan, 12:50 AM:** _shouldn't you be texting your girlfriend right now then? if she's not home ofc_

 **Mark, 12:52 AM:** _Probably, haha. To be honest, though, I don't feel like talking to her. You can practically cut the tension with a knife here._

 **Ethan, 12:52 AM:** _oh, did something happen?_

 **Mark, 12:53 AM:** _Not necessarily? We just haven't talked since the whole texting fiasco. I think she knows I'm hiding something from her._

Oh. That was right, he promised not to tell Amy about their conversation together. His heart swelled for a split second, he wasn't expecting him to keep his promise. But at the same time, he felt bad. He was putting so much stress on their relationship.

 **Ethan, 12:54 AM:** _i'm sorry mark. this is my fault. if it weren't for me none of this would be happening right now._

 **Mark, 12:54 AM:** _No, no, don't say that. Things have been sort of rough for us recently anyways._

Unfortunately, Ethan's heart started up again. He knew it was awful to think positively about this, his friend's relationship wasn't doing so hot, that was automatically bad. But this could be his chance. He could get better, he might not have to die for things to be better again. Regardless, he tried his best to act sad for Mark.

 **Ethan, 12:56 AM:** _oh. thats a bummer :( if you need to talk about it, let me know. i'm here for you_

 **Mark, 12:57 AM:** _I'm fine, Eth. There's not much to talk about, anyways. Besides, you're the one in need right now._

Just as Ethan was about to reply with a stereotypical 'you matter more than me' message, Mark started typing again.

 **Mark, 12:58 AM:** _Before you come up with a defense, I wanna say this. You care about other people too much, Ethan. Take time to care for yourself too._

 **Mark, 12:58 AM:** _If you can't manage to do that for you, take care of yourself for me. I just wanna see you happy again._

Ethan closed his eyes, taking a moment to think. How could he reply to this without doing exactly what Mark didn't want him to do? God, he really didn't want to be dealing with this right now. It was almost 1 AM and he definitely wasn't going back to sleep any time soon. Why did Mark message him?

 **Ethan, 1:02 AM:** _okay. i'll try and be better about that. as long as you promise to be more open about your feelings._

 **Mark, 1:03 AM:** _You're one to talk, man. But alright. Really though, I'll be fine. I just wanted someone to make small talk with._

Ethan huffed, amused. He wondered if that was what he really wanted. He decided to crack some jokes instead of wondering too much, maybe it'd lighten the mood a bit.

 **Ethan, 1:04 AM:** _small talk my ass! you knew we were gonna get into some shit. wounds are still sore baby, im so sad :'( (you can tell because i put a tear under his eye)_

**Mark, 1:04 AM:** _Shut up. And you don't have baby privileges, baby. Only I can call you baby. ;)_

Was Mark really flirting with him right now? Jesus fucking Christ, Ethan could feel a blush creeping up his neck. It was just a joke. It was just a bit, just a joke, he wasn't actually flirting with him. Ethan started feeding into the bit, hoping Mark would take the bait.

 **Ethan, 1:05 AM:** _you flirting with me, fischbach? and in the middle of the night? how scandalous!_

**Mark, 1:05 AM:** _Maybe I am. Do you have a problem with that, Nestor?_

This didn't feel like a bit this didn't feel like a bit this didn't feel like a bit this didn't feel like a bit this didn't-

**Ethan, 1:06 AM:** _uh hahah. you're really winding me up here mark! you might make me fall head over heels for you at this point._

Why was he doing this to himself. He was royally screwing himself over right now. Mark started typing, and Ethan inhaled sharply, holding his breath anxiously. 

**Mark, 1:06 AM:** _Pff. What are we doing, man?_

**Ethan, 1:07 AM:** _i honestly have no idea. for a second there i couldn't tell if you were doing a bit or not and it freaked me out lol._

He shouldn't have sent that. He definitely, should not have sent that. But at the same time, he was curious how much Mark would be able to talk about this without it becoming awkward between the both of them.

**Mark, 1:07 AM:** _Oh, yeah. Just a bit. Unless you wanted it not to be._

God, this was bad. This was bad, this was awful, Ethan was gonna die. He had to keep that in mind, if he kept doing this shit, he was going to die faster and faster and-

**Mark, 1:07 AM:** _That was a joke. Sorry. Tone is hard over text, I should've added a 'wink wink' or something._

"Jesus, Mark!" Ethan whispered to himself. Mark made him have a fucking heart attack, Christ. And of course, here he was, getting his hopes up. 

**Ethan, 1:08 AM:** _it's alright haha. i get it texting is weird. bit's over?_

**Mark, 1:08 AM:** _Bit's over. No need to worry about me sweeping you off your feet. ;))))_

**Ethan, 1:08 AM:** _mark!_

**Mark, 1:09 AM:** _Sorry, sorry, I had to. Hopefully the joke was more obvious that time. Now the bit's over._

Ethan mentally facepalmed, making a mental note to not joke about this stuff anymore. It was going to kill him. Literally.

**Ethan, 1:09 AM:** _now go to bed. talk tomorrow, kay?_

**Mark, 1:10 AM:** _Fine, fine. Talk tomorrow, yadda yadda. Goodnight._

Ethan hummed and turned his phone off, setting it on his bedside table instead of recklessly throwing it around. That was weird, even for Mark. They really only do those sorts of jokes on camera, mostly because they knew it'd get a reaction out of the fans. But now they were doing it in private text messages? What if Amy found them and took them the wrong way? He'd feel terrible if he was the reason they broke up. This sucked.

But instead of thinking about it too much, he just closed his eyes and quickly fell back asleep.

It was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope the texting format isn't too obnoxious. tbh i didnt know how else to do it so i just continued with how i started it in the last chapter  
> anyway uh... the fight was legitimately hard for me to write. a lot of it came from my own feelings which. i wasnt expecting to be putting THAT mess into THIS mess BHSHHDH  
> THATS BESIDES THE POINT THOUGH. thank you for all the comments, kudos and hits (over 500 already??? wtf!!!!) i love yall thank you ;;;-;;;


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan calls in sick, but someone doesn't listen and pays him a surprise visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi babes im back!!! had to take a break, its been a rough week. but here's another chapter! on another note, WHAT THE FUCK... 900+ HITS??? AND OVER 100 KUDOS??? THANK YOU SO MUCH!!
> 
> anyway, there's vivid descriptions of vomit and blood in this chapter. be warned! stay safe!

Ethan woke up sputtering like a worn out engine this morning. His throat felt scratchy and tense, and his whole body was exhausted even though he got over 10 hours of very much needed sleep.

After the coughing fit, he stayed in bed for a few more minutes, just thinking about last night. He vaguely remembered the conversation he had with Mark over text, the 'flirting' that had ensued and what Mark had told him previously. He could obviously tell Ethan wasn't doing so hot, after all, he was practically an open book, what with his physical appearance and how often he was getting into fights with the both of them. But still, the phrase had gotten stuck in his brain.

_I just wanna see you happy again._

Did Mark really care about him that much? It wasn't always excruciatingly obvious, he wasn't often that open with Ethan about that sort of stuff. More importantly, was he really doing that bad of a job covering this bullshit disease up?

Whatever. It didn't matter. Mark would find out one way or another.

Ethan groaned, sitting up. It felt like every muscle in his body was yelling at him to lay back down and never move again, but he slowly got himself out of bed. He didn't know what time it was, and frankly, he didn't care. All he knew was that he had to feed Spencer, make some tea for his aching throat, and probably go back to bed.

He could hear his bones creak with every groggy step he took. As he went downstairs, Spencer suddenly appeared next to him, tail wagging away.

"Hey bud," Ethan rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "Feed ya in a sec."

Spencer just looked up at the young man patiently as they walked into the kitchen together. Ethan grabbed a can of dog food and did as he normally would, poured it into Spencer's bowl. He gave him morning pats, and pulled himself back to the kitchen.

He got a mug and filled it up with water, noticing his hands shaking as he did so. He just sighed, put the mug in his microwave for a couple minutes, and dug through his pantry to find some tea bags.

Once he found the right tea (he noted that it was chamomile), he got out some honey and cinnamon and waited for microwave to finish. His eyes were glued to the glowing numbers counting down on the microwave. It kind of reminded him of Unus Annus, with the whole clock thing and whatnot. He would've laughed, but, you know.

Eventually, the microwave beeped and Ethan quickly took the mug out of it with both hands wrapped around the scorching ceramic, wincing when it burnt them. He dipped the tea bag in the mug, poured a minimal amount of honey into it and a dash of cinnamon, too.

He took his mug by the handle this time and slowly made his way back up the stairs and to his bedroom.

As soon as he got there, he set the mug on his bedside table and soon after, he collapsed onto his bed, giving his muscles a well-deserved break. He'd only went downstairs for a few minutes, yet it felt like he'd been walking for miles.

God.

He figured he should check his phone, see if anyone's texted him and to play catch up with social media and such. He leaned over to his other bedside table and grabbed his phone, unlocking it.

To his surprise, Mark had texted him about an hour ago. He quickly tapped on the notification to see what he had sent, holding his breath in anticipation.

 **Mark, 8:23 AM:** _Morning! How you feeling today man?_

'Morning'? Mark never sends good morning messages, especially not to Ethan. This was weird. Either Ethan was reading way too far into this message, or Mark was being way too careful with him.

If Ethan was honest with himself, he didn't exactly want to answer the first question and worry Mark even more. So he dodges it and responds with a cheeky reply. Maybe cracking jokes would make Mark forget?

 **Ethan, 9:34 AM:** _wow, a good morning from the famous mark i. plier? what's the occasion?_

To Ethan's surprise, Mark replied right away. Maybe it wasn't that surprising, he could've had his phone on him. But Mark was the kind of person to put off replying to someone until he forgot about it, and then he'd reply 6 months later like 'Shit dude I didn't see this sorry!' but he obviously did.

 **Mark, 9:34 AM:** _Actually, it's Mark Iplier, thank you very much. Anyway, is it illegal for a buddy to tell his friend good morning now? I just wanted to check in on you._

Ethan giggled quietly, a grin plastered on his face now. Mark always knew how to make him laugh. God, he loved him so fucking much.

 **Ethan, 9:35 AM:** _ah my mistake mr iplier. but yes, it is illegal if you're wanting to 'check in on me'_

 **Mark, 9:35 AM:** _Well, I guess that makes me a criminal of the law. Insert evil laughter here. Answer the question though! Did you manage to get back to sleep? How's your throat?_

And the smile was gone, just like that. Damnit. So he _was_ being way too careful with him. Admittedly, Ethan could tell the truth without it being too detrimental for him, but it still made something stir in his stomach.

 **Ethan, 9:37 AM:** _okay okay. yeah i got back to sleep. i managed to get 18-ish hours of sleep, and yet i'm still exhausted... my throat is absolutely killing me too. i made some tea, but i haven't drank it yet_

 **Mark, 9:37 AM:** _Damn, did you pass out after we talked? You must've been really tired. I hope you feel better soon, though. Whatever you have, it sounds awful._

'Really tired' was an understatement. It was like he shut down, mentally and physically. Like he ran out of battery. He never runs out of battery.

 **Ethan, 9:37 AM:** _yeah, a few minutes after. i was pretty tired lol, yesterday was a lot. so do i. how's amy, btw?_

It took Ethan a minute to decide whether or not he wanted to add that last part, but he figured it'd be polite. He still felt bad, after all. But Mark's typing bubble kept popping up and disappearing every few seconds. Why was he struggling with such a simple question?

 **Mark, 9:39 AM:** _She's okay._

That's all he had to say? Ethan thought that was really weird, especially because of how long it took him to get that out, but he didn't want to press for fear of seeming too intrusive. Still, his mind wandered to possibilities of what might've happened between them. He knew it was wrong, but he thought anyway.

 **Ethan, 9:39 AM:** _alright, that's good. i hope everything was okay after last night. anyways, i gotta drink my tea before it goes cold. see you later!_

 **Mark, 9:40 AM:** _Okay, see you._

That was the weirdest interaction Ethan ever had with Mark before. He'd never heard Mark be so... reserved? Especially when talking about Amy, he could go on about her for hours and hours. And it happened so fast that Ethan could barely take a moment to breathe.

Did something happen between them? An awful part of him secretly hoped so, but at the same time, he was conflicted. They were his best friends, he wanted the best for them and their relationship, right? But, you know, if something _did_ happen, that could admittedly lower his chances of dying.

Ethan decided he wouldn't worry about it too much, though. No use crying over milk that hasn't even been spilt yet, right?

So instead, he just reaches over to grab his tea from his bedside table. He knew his hands were shaking, but at this point, he had gotten used to it. He didn't think the shakes and the wavering knees would go away, so he figured he'd just deal with it while he had to.

The mug is comfortably warm now, not hot enough to burn his hands as he wrapped them around the ceramic, but not gross lukewarm tea. It was nice. It felt homely, like he was sitting around the campfire with a mug of hot cocoa in his hands.

But it was tea. Not the good kind of tea either, like milk tea. Just plant water. And it had gross stuff in it that made it taste worse. Ethan soon recognized he did not like tea.

He knew he had to drink it anyways, though. So he trudged through it, taking a sip. The liquid coated the inside of his mouth and throat in a film of honey and cinnamon, which made him feel like he was going to gag. He swallowed it down quickly, making sure none of it came back up.

He was going to hate this, wasn't he?

He sighed and laid back down on his pillow, holding his mug securely on his chest. The mug moved up and down as he breathed. In the moment, the pattern was calming. Frankly, it was the only thing keeping Ethan grounded, the only thing that was constant and routine.

That moment was quickly ruined when his throat decided to spasm, resulting in another awful wave of coughs. He pushed himself upright so he didn't choke on his own spit, quickly shoving his tea back onto the bedside table so he didn't spill it everywhere.

The wave felt like it would never end. As much as he tried to, he just couldn't catch his breath, his lungs were so sore and his throat was burning, aching for relief. It felt like tiny little daggers were sliding themselves up and down his esophagus. But it wouldn't stop. Soon he could feel what felt like bile rushing up his throat, to which he quickly covered his mouth with his hands and stumbled off his bed, running his bathroom before he vomited everywhere.

He barely made it in time before he started gagging over the toilet again. It was the situation at Mark's all over again, but this time it was worse.

It was so much worse.

He couldn't tell how much there was. All he knew that it wasn't over yet. He didn't want to open his eyes. Tears started to flow out of them, rushing down his cheeks and dripping into the toilet.

He wouldn't let go of the toilet - he was sure his knuckles were white and it felt like his fingers were going to fall off, but it was something to keep him in the moment. To get his mind off the fact that he was vomiting and coughing up his insides, which he was sure looked awful in the bowl. It hurt so fucking bad, it was _absolutely_ the worst pain he had ever experienced.

There was a brief pause for him to catch his breath and wipe his runny nose, but soon his muscles spasmed again as another wave of puke came around. 

After a few more minutes of dry heaving, it was over.

Ethan felt absolutely awful. His head was spinning, he felt so nauseous and it felt like a layer of his throat had been burnt away. His body was so worn out already, and it was only morning. How much more of this would he have to deal with?

His eyes were still clenched. He didn't want to look into the bowl. He didn't want to see the mess he made, and the mess he would have to clean up. He didn't want to see how many petals or flowers were in there, or how bloody everything was this time.

But he knew he had to. So he did.

He was met with a very unsightly blood spattered toilet bowl. It was filled with bright red blood and what looked to be blue-ish petals that looked black when covered with blood. There were many more petals than there had ever been before, and just the sight of it made Ethan sick to his stomach.

This was terrifying. This was visual evidence that he was going to be dying soon if he didn't do anything about it. But what could he do?

He supposed all he could do was clean it up and make sure no one found out. So that was what he did.

He flushed the toilet, wiped the blood up, made himself look a little less messy in the mirror, and took a deep, shaky breath.

To be honest, he looked as awful as he felt. He looked sunken in. Ill. Which made sense, now that he thought about it, because he did just vomit his guts up.

He was absolutely ridden with anxiety, he felt like he would faint or cry or something, but he recollected himself, and headed out of the bathroom. He had to call Mark, he had to tell him that he couldn't record for a while.

He made his way to his bedroom, sat on his bed and took his mug back. It was lukewarm now, which made it even more disgusting, but it got the taste of iron and bile out of his mouth.

He grabbed his phone and found Mark in his contacts. He took a moment to calm himself - his heart was racing and the nausea from earlier wasn't making him feel any better - but soon after, he clicked the button and called his friend.

It rang for a few seconds, but Mark quickly picked up the phone.

"Ethan?" Mark's voice rang out from the other side of the phone. His voice was low quality, but Ethan could tell he was worried. "Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah," Ethan rasped a reply, clearing his throat. "Yeah, no, 'm fine."

"Oh," Mark said, relieved. "What are you calling for, then?"

"I- I just- I won't be able to film today," Ethan murmured, his voice still shaky. He cursed at himself internally, why did he have to be so unsteady right now?

"Why?" Mark asked. Ethan could tell Mark was disappointed in him. It hurt.

"I- I'm not feeling too great," Ethan answered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I thought you were fine," Mark said. There was a sharpness to his words that wasn't there before.

"Well, yeah, I'm fine right now," Ethan winced. "I- I just don't wanna risk it, man."

There was a pause for a moment. The silence was absolutely deafening, but after a few seconds, Ethan could hear Mark sigh over the phone.

"Okay," he finally said. "Take your time. Call us if you need anything."

"'Kay," Ethan replied, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "Bye."

He hung up before Mark could interject with anything else. That was one of the most awkward phone calls he had ever experienced with a friend.

Regardless, he should probably upload something to his own channel so he could just take a break from everything. Whether it was going to be for a week or for forever, Ethan would have to wait to find out.

He stretched his arms out, groaning as he did so, and went off to his recording room. Spencer appeared next to his side and followed him as well, trotting along happily.

He took a seat in his fancy chair, set up a simple webcam (he didn't feel like getting all of his equipment), and started recording.

"Hey guys!" Ethan said brightly, putting up a convincing enough mask for his fans. He looked like shit - he was pale and tired looking, and his hair was all tousled and sweaty. They'd notice, but he couldn't do anything about it now. "So, I'll be taking a break for a week or so. My voice is obviously not doing so hot right now, so... yeah."

He could feel his mask starting to slip, but he blinked it away and put up a fake exaggerated pouty face.

"I know, it sucks," Ethan whined, "but I don't wanna wear my vocal chords away. I'll be back! Love you all."

And with that, he stopped the recording. He decided he'd edit this one himself since there wasn't much he had to do, and he wouldn't want any of his editors to start worrying now.

He quickly put the video into his editing program, cut out the awkward pauses and moments where you could see him zoning out. He put a quick filter on it so he didn't look so sick, and saved it.

He went to Youtube, came up with a shitty description and title, and just chose a thumbnail from the ones provided. Once it had finished uploading, he posted it and immediately closed the tab he was on so he didn't have to see the views and comments rushing in.

Normally, he'd be excited to see comments and views and likes - he was immensely proud of how far he'd come. But he definitely wasn't excited for the response to this video. He knew they'd be worried, people would ask questions, they'd theorize, etcetera. So he'd rather just avoid it instead of stressing over it.

He sighed and leaned back into his chair. Taking a glance at Spencer laying down on the ground next to his chair, he leaned over the arm of it and gave him a few pets.

"We're really in it now, huh, Spence?" Ethan chuckled quietly, sitting back up in his chair.

What was he going to do? God, he vomited his lungs up like, 30 minutes ago. How did he come to terms with that so quickly? He didn't really think about it too much, he supposed. Admittedly, he didn't really want to be thinking about it at all right now.

Was this his way of coping? Throwing all of his problems to the side, just to deal with them later when the time comes? That probably wasn't very healthy, now that he thought about it. But how else would someone cope with the fact that they were going to be dying in a few months time?

He didn't know. He didn't think he would ever know.

He figured that was okay, though.

\--

Mark was hanging out in his room after just being hung up on by Ethan.

Okay, well, maybe he wasn't exactly hung up on. Ethan said goodbye and everything, but it still felt abrupt. It felt like stuff was still up in the air, and the uncertainty was slowly killing Mark.

He couldn't help but keep thinking about his friend. He knew Ethan didn't want him to worry, but he really couldn't help it. Usually Ethan was open with him about this stuff, but he was being weirdly secretive this time around. It made Mark feel uneasy. What would he feel like he had to keep from him?

Ethan didn't have to tell him everything, of course, there are things people should be able to keep to themselves. But this felt bad. Eth sounded horrible over the phone, it sounded like he had been screaming for the past 5 hours. Mark definitely knew how that felt. He would've pushed for answers, but based on the conversation he and Ethan had yesterday, it was probably for the best that he didn't.

Speculating wouldn't do him any good, though, so he shook the thoughts away and decided he'd make himself some food. It was nearly 10:30 AM and he still hadn't eaten yet, so his stomach was practically screeching at him to go get some food.

Amy still wasn't around, which definitely didn't soothe his rambling brain, but he had enough to worry about right now. He walked downstairs and shuffled into his kitchen, starting to dig through his fridge.

There wasn't that much. They had lunch meat, eggs, veggies, assorted condiments, and random leftovers that he didn't feel like reheating. Nothing in there really felt appetizing at the moment, so he headed over to his pantry. That was mostly filled with assorted snacks, dressings, and bread. He knew nothing there would keep him full, so he just decided he'd have an apple.

He grabbed one from a fruit bowl on their dining table, washed it off in their sink and took a bite. It was a Gala, of course, Mark's favorite. It'd keep him steady till lunch came around, too, so overall a good choice for breakfast. Brunch? It didn't matter to him.

He went back upstairs to watch some TV in his lounge. Hopefully it'd get his mind off all the things happening to him right now.

Just as he sat on the couch, his phone pinged. He took another bite of his apple while eagerly sliding the phone out of his back pocket. He was hoping it was a text from Ethan - maybe he'd tell him what was wrong? - but it was something completely unexpected.

It was a video Ethan had uploaded to his Youtube channel titled, 'I'm Taking a (short) Break'. Admittedly, Mark would have done the same thing, but it was still weird to see for some reason. He had a bad feeling about the video, but he tapped on the notification anyways.

"Hey guys!"

Ethan's voice rang out from Mark's speakers. He went on about his reasoning as to why he'd be taking a break, but Mark wasn't exactly paying attention to his voice right now.

He was paying attention to how _terrible_ Ethan looked. He looked like a wreck. He definitely wasn't just having vocal chord issues. He looked hungover, or like he had the flu or something. It was crazy concerning, especially considering how he just talked to the man 10 minutes ago. What happened to him?

Just as soon as it started, the video ended. It wasn't long, you don't need to make a long video just to tell people you're taking a break for a week. But it was weird. Ethan was acting strange throughout the entire thing, like he wasn't being as genuine as usual. Sure, as a Youtube, you kind of have to put on a sort of personality, but this was different. It felt forced.

Mark soon realized he shouldn't have watched that video, because now something in the back of his brain was nagging at him to go over to Ethan's and make sure he was okay. He knew he shouldn't, that would be rude and intrusive, but Ethan looked like death. Mark definitely wouldn't want to go through that alone.

He could message him beforehand, but something told him he'd be shut down. So he'd have to make up an excuse. Maybe he could say he was lonely, like last night? Or maybe he could just get him a gift or something, and then leave. Like a get well soon sort of thing?

That felt like it would work. Mark knew Ethan wasn't exactly someone who would turn down a gift, as long as it wasn't food.

So he hopped up from his couch, slid his phone back into his pocket and continued to eat his apple while rushing downstairs to make a shitty card.

It was simple enough - just a piece of paper folded in half, with DON'T DIE written on the front of the card. On the inside, he wrote some sappy bullshit that no one needs to know about but Ethan himself. It wasn't too long, but he felt it'd do the trick.

He finished his apple, slid his shoes on and hopped into his car. It still smelt plastic and artificial, something that always managed to bug Mark. New car smell was gross, and it felt like it lingered for forever.

But that didn't matter. He drove off to Ethan's place.

It was nice out - his window was rolled down a little, so the crisp winter air was refreshing and helped to air out his car. The sun was shining and everything felt fine, until he remembered where he was heading. Ethan wasn't fine, and that made Mark feel not fine, so everything was not fine. Everything was, in fact, bad.

While he was at a light, he took a moment to think. Someone was having the best day of their life right now, and someone was having their worst. Mark had always thought that was interesting. We're all different people experiencing different things and different lives. We take things for granted. He'd been thinking about that a lot more lately, what with starting Unus Annus and all. It hadn't really come up before now, but now he was thinking about it every day. How little time we have.

The light turned green, and Mark was laser focused on driving again, trying to get to Ethan's as fast as possible.

Soon, he was pulling into his friend's driveway, grabbing his homemade card and getting out of his car, rubbing his hands together for warmth. He probably should've brought a coat, now that he thought about it, but it was too late now. He walked up to the front door and knocked firmly.

No reply. He knocked again.

"Ethan?" Mark said aloud, knocking louder this time. Still no response. Maybe he was just resting in bed?

Thankfully, they both had keys to each other's houses, considering how often they were over now. Mark dug in his pockets and found his key, unlocking Ethan's door and stepping inside.

It was much warmer, he assumed Ethan had the heat on. He put the key back in his pocket and pushed his windswept hair out of his face. He took a breath and started searching around the house for his friend.

He immediately beelined to his bedroom. Thankfully, the door was open, so he wouldn't run into him jacking off or something. But unfortunately, Ethan wasn't in there. Mark huffed and continued his search. His shoes clanked on the hardwood floor as he walked through the hallways, but he came to a stop when he heard a noise from what he assumed to be the bathroom.

He put his ear up to the door, waiting to hear something more. There was shuffling, and then what sounded like a cat hacking up a hairball, and spitting. Oh, Ethan had it bad, didn't he? No wonder he looked so ill in his video, he'd probably been feeling sick for a while.

Mark knocked on the bathroom door softly. "Ethan?"

More shuffling and soon after a loud clank came from the other side of the wall. Someone - presumably Ethan - cleared their throat. "Mark?"

"Yeah, it's me," Mark mumbled, his voice gentle and soft. "Sorry for barging in on you, I just wanted to give you something and then leave, but you weren't answering the door. Are you alright?"

"I- Well," Ethan started, clearing his throat in the middle of his sentence, "sure."

"Okay, uh... Can I come in?" Mark asked, hand hovering over the doorknob. It wasn't locked.

"No!" Ethan blurted out, his voice hoarse. "I- I mean, I guess, yeah. Sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Mark reassured him and turned the doorknob, opening the door.

He was met with a disheveled Ethan, sitting on his toilet awkwardly. He looked even worse than how he looked in the video - he was sweaty and looked like a deflated balloon. It also smelled strongly of metal and vomit. Gross.

"You look like shit, dude," Mark huffed out a laugh, trying to make light of the uncomfortable situation he was in. "You one hundred percent sure you're alright?"

Ethan gave him a halfhearted smile and nodded.

"Stand up, then," Mark ordered, crossing his arms. He knew Ethan was hiding something. He wasn't sure why he was hiding it, we've all barfed before, but he was going to get it out of him.

As soon as Mark finished his sentence, Ethan's face immediately became stricken with fear. He shook his head.

"Man, I'm not gonna be grossed out by your puke," Mark sighed.

"That's not what I'm worried about," Ethan mumbled, averting his gaze.

"What _are_ you worried about, then?" Mark asked, taking a seat on the bathroom floor.

Ethan just looked at him in response. His eyes were filled with uncertainty and caution. Mark couldn't help but feel bad - he knew what he was doing was wrong and weird and he should just leave, but what if Ethan was actually dying or something? What was he afraid of?

"I'm sorry," Ethan whispered, barely breaking the silence.

"Ethan," Mark started, but quickly stopped as Ethan stood up. Mark looked up at the younger man and saw that he was crying. "Ethan, what-?"

"I'm so sorry," Ethan choked, rubbing the tears away from his eyes. "I should have told you sooner. I'm sorry, just-"

Ethan cut himself off with a sob, covering his face with his hands. Mark figured this was the time to comfort his friend instead of sitting on the floor dumbfounded, so he stood up and hugged him. Ethan instinctively reciprocated the hug, wrapping his arms around Mark.

"Listen, Eth," Mark hummed, rubbing Ethan's back. "I'm not mad at you. You don't have to apologize for anything, okay?"

Ethan nodded, sniffling.

"I'm glad you feel comfortable enough to open up about this now," Mark mumbled, his voice low. "Can I look?"

Ethan hesitated, but nodded once again. He broke up the hug and they made eye contact. Ethan still looked worried and anxious, and he always got all fidgety when he was worried about something. All Mark wanted to do in that moment was tell him everything was going to be alright, and that he'd fix this. But he knew what he had to do. He nodded and stood in front of the toilet that Ethan was sitting on previously.

He glanced at Ethan again, who was now sitting on the edge of his bathtub. He took a deep breath and braced himself for what he'd find.

What he found was certainly not what he expected.

As soon as he lifted the lid, he was hit with a wave of shock, nausea, and terror all combined.

What the fuck was happening???

He snapped around to look at Ethan, who wouldn't even look back at him. Heavy, choking sobs echoed throughout the bathroom. Mark felt like he couldn't breathe. His heart was pounding, it was deafening. The substance in the toilet was definitely blood, as it certainly smelled like it. He had so many questions, but he didn't know which one to ask first.

"Ethan, why..." Mark trailed off, looking at the toilet and then Ethan, back and forth. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Because!" Ethan cried out, ruffling his hair. "Because, I th-thought you would hate me! And I was so scared, and- and I-"

"Ethan!" Mark cut the younger man off before he could go on a tirade. He crouched down to eye level with him and put his hands on his shoulders. "Listen to me. I'm not mad. I don't hate you. I just want to know what is wrong with you, okay?"

Ethan looked at Mark. And that is what ground up his heart into tiny little grains of heart-based sand. He looked absolutely broken. There were still tears pooling over and running down his cheeks, which just made Mark feel worse. So, Mark looked back. He looked back as long as he could before Ethan looked away.

"I'm sick," Ethan grinned, choking out a watery laugh.

"Obviously," Mark huffed, smiling slightly. "So, there was blood. But what else was in there? I don't want to stick my head in there."

"Flowers," Ethan stated simply.

"Flowers?" Mark echoed, his brow furrowed. That made no sense. Did he just go and eat some flowers or some shit? Sure, Ethan could be silly and a little stupid, and he'd play that up for videos sometimes, but he'd never purposefully eat random plants.

"It's a disease," Ethan mumbled, his voice quiet as a mouse. "Y- You know that guy I'm in love with?"

Mark nodded in reply. He didn't know what he had to do with any of this, but he was sure Ethan would explain.

"He doesn't love me back," Ethan continued as he fidgeted with the fabric of his shirt, "so now I'm sick. I have a few months - at most, really - to live."

"You're dying?" Mark asked. Ethan looked at him guiltily and nodded slowly.

Mark didn't know why he wasn't breaking down in tears right now. His best friend just told him that he was going to die. But instead of saying anything, he just sat there in shock for a moment. They had only just started a channel all about death, and funnily enough, Ethan wasn't even going to make it till it died.

"Can it be cured?" Mark wondered aloud, looking at Ethan sympathetically.

"Only if you can get him to love me back," Ethan snickered quietly, still not making eye contact with the older man. "There is another option, but..."

"What is it?" Mark pressed. Ethan said he had little to no chance getting together with this guy, so any other options would be good to know as well.

"Surgery," Ethan said. "They take the flowers out, but your emotions go with them."

"Oh," Mark uttered. "So..."

"Not going that route, if you're curious," Ethan smiled, glancing at Mark momentarily. His eyes were puffy from crying, but they were beautiful. God, Ethan deserved so much better than this. Why couldn't Mark be the one who got sick?

"I understand," Mark mumbled, looking down at the tiles of the bathroom floor. "What do you want to do?"

"There's not much I _can_ do," Ethan said, his voice muffled as he started to pat his face dry. "I could try and seduce the guy I like?"

"You could," Mark nodded.

They sat in awkward silence for a minute or so after that. Mark assumed Ethan probably had a lot on his mind, and he couldn't blame him. He had a lot on his mind too. A lot of questions and a lot of feelings that didn't feel like surfacing at the moment. But he didn't matter right now - Ethan was more important.

"I should go," Mark stated, standing up abruptly. "I made you a card, but, uh..."

"Oh, yeah, shit," Ethan blinked, standing up as well. He rubbed his eyes one more time before taking a look at Mark, smiling. "We got all caught up in this whole dying thing that I couldn't accept your gift!"

"Ah, well... It seems sorta in poor taste now," Mark laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "But here. Just- disregard the front of it."

Mark handed the shoddy card over to Ethan, and he watched carefully as Ethan eyed it. The younger man giggled quietly when looking at the front of the card, but opened it anyway. Mark could see his eyes darting back and forth as he scanned the message he wrote. Once he finished, he closed it back up and looked up at Mark with one of the most genuine, happiest faces that Mark had seen from him in a while. It made something in his heart light up and start beating again.

"Mark, this is..." Ethan trailed off, looking back down at the card. "Thank you."

Mark just nodded bashfully, looking down at the ground again. "Shucks."

Suddenly, Ethan hugged him. Tight. It took Mark a second to reciprocate, but he quickly wrapped his arms around Ethan, hugging back just as tight. Ethan was warm and cozy and Mark didn't think he'd ever want to let go.

"I mean it," Ethan mumbled into Mark's shirt.

"I know," Mark replied.

Unfortunately, the hug ended as soon as it started. Ethan pulled away and looked up at Mark with a smile on his face.

"We'll figure it out," Ethan said, consoling Mark with a head pat. "Don't worry."

"Kinda hard not to when you're literally dying," Mark laughed, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Anyway, I really should get going."

"Yeah, go home to Amy. I'm sure she's wondering where you're at," Ethan grinned, putting Mark's card on the bathroom sink.

Mark's smile was wiped off his face as soon as Ethan mentioned Amy, and he knew Ethan noticed, as his smile was gone too.

"Did I say something wrong?" Ethan asked, brow furrowed in confusion and concern.

"No, no, I just- I haven't actually seen Amy since last night," Mark clarified, biting his lip absentmindedly. "She just disappeared."

"I thought you said you two were alright?" Ethan tilted his head. Mark didn't exactly want to be having this conversation right now considering all that had come to light in the past 20 minutes, but it was Ethan. He deserved to know.

"I lied, dumbass," Mark sighed. "I didn't want to stress you out even more than you already were."

"Oh," Ethan mumbled. "I'm sorry, Mark."

"It's fine," Mark stated, pushing his hair out of his face. "Don't worry about it. She'll be back at some point."

Ethan nodded, and Mark took that as his signal to leave.

"Alright, uh... Call me if you need anything at all, okay?" Mark said, turning around to walk out of the bathroom. "And call 911 if you're dying from blood loss or anything, please."

Ethan hummed a reply and Mark turned around to face Ethan one more time. They stood there for a bit while Mark took in everything he was seeing. Ethan still looked really sick, which just made Mark feel guilty. He wished he could do more, but it wasn't like Ethan loved _him_ or anything. And he knew he should probably be staying around Ethan and making sure he doesn't literally fucking die, but Mark knew Ethan would protest and there wasn't any point to fighting with him about it.

So he just nodded, waved goodbye, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) youre welcome. we love angst  
> also dont get mad at me for making it move on so fast lets say its gotten worse because hes been around mark a lot okay shut up
> 
> anyways. would vomiting blood up even work if it came from your lungs?? this disease makes absolutely no sense now that i think about it.... but OH WELL
> 
> we're like, halfway there folks!!! stay tuned!!!
> 
> also dont be like mark and only eat an apple for breakfast. hes stupid, alr  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> this chapter was surprisingly lighthearted so it only gets worse from here folks. :)  
> btw, keep in mind im a very sporadic updater!! i'm not a writer (im an artist primarily, writing isn't my strong suit) and im adhd so im almost always in procrastination central and i frequently jump from hyperfixation to hyperfixation :(  
> anyway i'll try and update soon though!! im enjoying writing this so far so yeah stay tuned


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